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Perhaps you were one of the lucky ones who got to attend the 1997 X-Games,
held in San Diego. Most likely you just watched it on TV, or caught clips
and soundbites on MTV. I volunteered at the event, and was disgusted
by the experience. I guess I shouldn't feel too disappointed,
after all, we are living in the era of subsidization. Qualcomm Stadium,
Coors Amphitheater, Blockbuster Pavillion... can the Year of the Depends
Adult Undergarment really be that far away?
They say nothing happens until it is consumed. We are all
made-for-television movies in the making. Some of us are books. A few rare gems,
like plays, go on and on forever. Here we are all gathered into one mass
televised event. The bodies pressed hard against eachother, gasping for
attention, each bringing their own special interest plot twist to the story. Here
the stands are packed, with the shirtless and the sunburnt, the beautiful and
the hip. Two giant television screens show the event as broadcast. We catch
ourselves watching the screen instead of the live action. It's what we're used
to. Instant replay. Replayed. Again and again. From a wire high above the
judge's booth ranges a mobile camera, a roving eye forever observing,
documenting, searching... Is it pointed at us? Check the screens. Then stand
up, wave, dance, be beautiful, make a mockery of ourselves for the
entertainment of the nation, who all wish they could be here to be on TV.
Where do the voices come from? Black boxes suspended behind our heads,
over our heads and to the left. Perhaps there is a body attached to those
voices. Perhaps it is the wizard who hides behind a large banner bearing the
word "Sony". The commentary simply melts into white noise, it is the
advertisements we listen to. A comment about father's day segues into a
commercial for AT&T. We cannot remember who won but we walk away
feeling hungry for gorditas. The voices badger us incessantly. Shaming us
with our quietude. Cheer. Scream louder. Stomp your feet. Stand up.
Consume. Consume. And the crowd, like the obedient, mindless mass that it
is, stands. Screams. Stomps and claps. And all the while the cameras roll and
the microphones record. What was it we came here for? Forget the athletes.
Forget the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. We want our 15 minutes.
We want to score free chips and soda and to climb the wall of pegs to get
those jeans. As the sun dips over the horizon at Mission Bay the consumer
event is over. We dissipate and trudge home with samples and souvenirs
bearing product logos in tow. Tomorrow it will be back to work, pushing
papers, crunching numbers, buying and selling intangibles... sendentary with
eyes glossed over, dreaming of our lives on TV.
Copyright 1998 Jennifer Chung
All rights reserved.
Brought to you by Hostess TwinkiesTM.
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