Local couple gets it right for Valentine’s show

By FRANK DYNAN
My wife, Kathleen, is a committed fan of The Price is Right TV show.
Recently, she saw information about a special Valentine’s Day show taping for couples only on January 5.
She advised me that she had sent for tickets, and she suggested that we fly to Los Angeles and try to get on the show.
My enthusiasm didn’t match hers, however, and I said simply, “We’ll see.”
Knowing of my interest in riding trains, she suggested that when we are in L.A., we could take the train that runs up the California coast to Seattle — Amtrak’s Coast Starlight, an overnight train whose route is among the most scenic of US train trips.
So I upped the ante by suggesting that we could then ride Amtrak’s Empire Builder from Seattle to Chicago.
“Sure,” she said, and now I’m hooked.
Kathleen says we must have distinctive shirts — something with a Valentine’s Day theme.
“Whatever,” I say.
A few days later, she shows me what she had made: red sweatshirts with interlocking hearts on the front. On the back of mine in white lettering it says: “Happy Valentine’s Day,” and on hers it says: “From The Price Is Right.”
My wife calls the studio to get information. She’s told the CBS gate opens at 6 a.m. at which time Order of Arrival passes will be distributed and guests will be asked to return at 10 a.m.
We arrive by taxi at CBS TV City in Hollywood at 5:10 a.m., surprised to see a long line of people already waiting. Many appear to have been in line overnight with lawn chairs, heavy clothing, blankets, and even sleeping bags.
It’s cold; the temperature is in the mid-40s. We’re wearing only our sweatshirts and light jackets, so it’s not long before we feel the chill.
My wife wonders if we’ll get in. Having a ticket doesn’t guarantee admittance, because more tickets are distributed than there are seats. She goes to the front of the line to see what she can learn.
She returns to report that there are about 140 people ahead of us and the studio holds 325. She decides to tell everyone in line behind us, so they won’t be discouraged.
We chat with couples around us until 6 a.m. when the line begins to move, and by 6:25 we receive an Order of Arrival Pass (we’re numbers 133 and 134). We are told to return by 9:50 a.m. for processing, but the earlier the better.
We’re cold and hungry. We look for the 24-hour diner that we were told is nearby. We find the restaurant in the nearby Farmer’s Market — a Los Angeles landmark. It’s not yet busy, but when we leave about an hour later, it’s packed with potential The-Price-is-Right contestants.
We walk through the market to kill time, then head back to the studio. Around 9 a.m. we pass through security and are directed to an outdoor holding area where there are already more than 50 people gathered. There are benches, a snack bar, and restrooms. By 9:45 there are several hundred people milling around.
At 10 a.m. studio personnel begin calling us in groups of 15 or 20, and direct us around the corner of the building to another holding area with two long rows of benches.
Here CBS studio pages proceed along the benches taking tickets and Order of Arrival passes and checking picture IDs and Social Security cards. Everyone must present their Social Security card to be eligible to receive prizes. The pages also take a digital photo of each couple.
We receive our official nametag. I ask the page to put “Frank” on my nametag. She tells me she must use “Francis” because that’s the name on my Social Security card.
I explain with some passion that I haven’t been called Francis since grade school. She lets me know with a broad smile that it must be Francis. Whenever I see her thereafter, she smiles and pointedly calls me Francis.
The next step in our processing is the group interview. Contrary to popular assumption, contestants on The Price Is Right are not chosen randomly. Each is evaluated during this brief interview, and then the contestants are selected by unspecified criteria.
In groups of five couples, we are called to face two production assistants. One, a man, chats with each person in the group while the other, a woman, observes the interaction and makes notes.
When the man approaches my wife and me, we do a shuffling 180 degree pivot in unison to show him the back of our sweat shirts, and then repeat the pivot to face him again.
“Nice shirts; great moves,” he comments. He asks a few questions, then moves on.
We now move around to a third side of the building, the final holding area. It’s about 11:45 a.m., so there is still more than one hour before admission to the studio. People continue to drift into the holding area as they complete their processing.
It’s still rather cool, probably in the low 50s. It’s sunny, but the holding areas are under canopies.
People wander off to the snack bar and return with sandwiches or chips and sodas. My wife buys a bagel with cream cheese and shares it with me. I’d love a coffee or a soda, but I’m afraid to drink anything for fear of having to respond to nature’s call during the show.
By now, it has become clear to everyone that we will all be admitted to the show and spirits are high. People are chatting excitedly, jumping around, doing high fives. My wife moves along the entire line high-fiving everyone.
At 1 p.m., pages open the studio doors and the crowd surges forward, excited, but orderly. Rock music blares as people are directed to seats in the amphitheatre.
They stand and sing, pumping their arms in the air and hug one another. Y – M – C – A; Y – M – C – A plays, and the crowd takes up the rhythmic clapping. My wife dances in the aisle and others join her.
When everyone has been seated, Rich Fields, the show announcer, trots on stage to a warm reception. He chats, tells a few jokes, and provides information about show procedures.
He explains that because of the noise level in the studio, chosen contestants might not be able to hear the trademark invitation to “Come on down!” so a producer will hold up a large card with the contestants’ names.
At 1:30 p.m. the taping begins. The second name card the producer hold up says: “Francis and Kathleen Dynan.”
Omigod! It’s us!
We jump up in a daze, and run down to Contestant’s Row amidst cheering, high fives, and calls of “good luck.” Two more couples are called to complete the first group of four.
This scene is nothing like what’s viewed on TV. In front of us on stage are several different sets, four TV cameras, and perhaps a dozen camera operators and stage personnel.
Rich Fields is off to the right in his announcer’s booth. The noise is deafening. And then, as Fields introduces the host, Drew Carey, the audience roars and chants, “Drew, Drew, Drew, Drew”!
Our bids on the first two prizes are not even close, but on the third, a 42-inch flat screen TV, our bid is closest, and we run up on stage.
Carey shows us an expensive-looking digital camera and says its price is $799. Then, we are shown three other prizes: a selection of three designer handbags, a fancy baby’s crib, and an electric motorboard.
Carey asks us to pick the one that also costs $799.
We don’t have clue, so my wife runs to each one, seeking the audience’s reaction. They scream the loudest when she points to the motorboard, and that’s what we pick.
We’re right, so we win all four prizes. Carey quips that Kathleen is looking forward to using the crib, after she had quietly told him, “At our ages, not likely.”
When we spin the big wheel to get into the showcase, another couple spins $1 on the nose. We spin 60 cents and go over a dollar on our second spin. So it’s over for us. We can now come out of our daze and enjoy the rest of the show.
We were very lucky: we got in, we were selected to play, and we won some prizes. It doesn’t matter what we won, it was a great experience, and we had loads of fun.
But the most remarkable part of the experience, and the memory that will stay with us the longest, was the spirit of camaraderie.
For a few hours, everyone seemed to be the best of friends.
—Frank and Kathleen Dynan live in Cold Spring.