Naked in Dangerous Places - Cash Peters [38]
The result was pretty different from other travel programs. Funny, insightful, and innovative—everything most reality shows are not, in fact—an initiative that paid dividends. Two months later, our fourteen-minute mini-episode about Solvang was a monster hit when it was shown to focus groups in Las Vegas.1 Every measurable demographic right across the board warmed instantly to the All Washed Up concept. The only one that didn't, I believe, was the “people who live in Solvang” demographic. Apparently, they were in an uproar.
Just saw the episode of your show on Solvang, my hometown … you appear to be a brainless, soulless, blithering no-talent hackjob.…
—Gerald.
Mr Peters!
After viewing your travel segment, i find u 2 b, a total fucking idiot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What ever happened to having talent to be able to be on tv.
—Ryan.
Well, if you're going to be picky, whatever happened to using grammar, punctuation, good English, and manners to write e-mails? Hah!
Later, a friend of mine spotted this article in a Santa Barbara newspaper.2 I was stunned. Here's just a fraction of it:
Traveling Buffoon Stranded in Solvang
Cash Peters … embarrassed everyone he met in Solvang with boorish behavior and willful stupidity.… Peters badmouthed those who helped him, insulted their heritage and their wives, and played at falling down drunk, before he hightailed it out of town.…
Actually, that's not quite true; I didn't hightail it out of anywhere.
It was the last night of the shoot. Late. We were in a men's lodge called The Danish Brotherhood, and I'm sorry to say I drank way too much of something called aquavit, a clear, watery liqueur made from fermented potatoes. Three shots was all I had, but that's enough. Enough, I suspect, to tranquilize a bear. In fact, I got so wasted that I broke loose while the camera was still rolling and started hugging every Lars and Bent I could lay my hands on—another groundbreaking departure in TV, one from which other travel hosts could learn a great deal, and which would surely set our series apart from the dozens of mediocre ones hosted by insipid, milquetoast men in pastel golfing sweaters who never kiss or hug anybody during their shows.
Well, the Solvanistas thought otherwise, obviously. They hated it. The way the news article described things, you'd think I stopped just short of raping their town. Somehow, with my peculiar knack in life for taking lemonade and turning it back into lemons again, I'd riled up enough of the townsfolk to warrant an outcry. The reporter went on:
… [T]his was a crass, foolish pack of lies from the get-go.3 Peters should be stranded permanently, off the air,4 so he can't afflict other communities with his moronic antics.
Cash Peters tossed down aquavit with the boys until he was reeling, then staggered off to sleep in [Bent] Olsen's guest room. He grabbed Bent's wife like a Titanic survivor grabbing a lifejacket,5 and wouldn't let go.6 He made fun of Bent's piano skills.
“The drunk act was a put-on,”7 Mrs. Olsen revealed. “He can't drink.8 He's a diabetic.”9
Well, at least the focus groups liked it. A lot. Which meant the American public probably would too. Plus, hey, a little controversy's a good thing, right?
Furthermore, I was sure that, with some canny British ingenuity, we could reframe this terrible review, tighten it, pick out a few choice phrases, and turn it into something that didn't defame me quite as much as the original. Let me see, now …
“Cash Peters helped … their heritage … with his … antics.”
Perfect.
So that's how we got picked up for a series. Putting the Solvang minirevolt behind us, and with the wind of confidence filling our sails, we embarked on this one-year project. During that time I would be dumped in a whole new set of places, including Greece, Mexico, Kenya, Russia,