Naked in Dangerous Places - Cash Peters [7]
“Er … well, I may possibly have caught it once …” I fumbled around, trying to think of a polite way of describing the show I'd watched, “… and, I'll be honest with you, it was …,” crappity crap crap crap, “… not my cup of tea at all.”
“Exactly!!”
He surprised me by almost bouncing out of his seat with excitement.
“Research has shown,” he continued in short breaths, “that people only watch shows like that for eleven minutes at a time. D'you know why that is?”
Since I was in full self-sabotage mode by now and he seemed genuinely interested in my opinion, I took a daring position. “Because they're awful?”
His eyes dimmed slightly. “Er … well, I wouldn't put it quite like that. I mean, I know where you're going with this, and the problem …”
“The problem,” I cut in, emboldened, “is that too many travel and leisure programs on TV—and I mean generally—are just talking wallpaper. That's why I don't watch them. And when I do, it's only for eleven minutes. Much of the time they sugar-coat the truth with a bunch of bland PR blurbs and pass it off as information. I mean, where are the real, gritty travel experiences? The third-rate rental cars with used condoms under the seat. The inedible food that glues your jaws together. The hotels claiming to have ocean views, and they do, but only if you climb up on the roof with binoculars. That's real travel. That's what it's like for regular people. Oh, and FYI,” I tacked on by way of a final flourish, “I find most TV travel hosts to be bland, characterless, patronizing, over-smiley mannequins.”
“Exactly!” he said, even more excited. “Which is why I called you.”
“I'm sorry?”
“The shows you're referring to, they're old-school. On our network, we intend to populate our schedules with fascinating, authentic shows and cool hosts. Cool hosts who are passionate about travel.” He trained his eyes on me without blinking. “And you, Cash, would be perfect. You're personable, funny … and … er …”
Er …?
When no other adjectives came to mind he stopped and stared. And I stared too.
Quite honestly, I was trying not to show how enthusiastic I was, but, oh my God, I so wanted to be on TV in the worst way. I'd even go as far as to say I needed to be on TV. Really. With my radio career in the doldrums, where else was I going to go?
It's just that …
Well, I didn't want to do a travel show.
I'd been a travel journalist for over twenty years and it had never worked out. I'd simply ended up lonely, depressed, jaded, and, often, less informed about a place at the end of a trip than before I'd set off. That's precisely why I'd stopped—because I was no longer passionate about travel. What I needed was a new challenge. Something interesting and different, but—and I can't stress this enough—in no way travel-related.
“So what do you say?” His eyes were trained on me.
“No thanks. That's very kind of you, but I'm going to pass.”
Is what I wanted to say. But he was so very excited the whole time, and you don't like to hurt an excited guy's feelings. So instead I mumbled a plausible excuse. Something about currently fielding other offers and not being sure which one to take.2
“Well, at least think about it,” The Thumb said, wilting. (Nobody turns down the chance of having his own TV show. Ever! It's unheard of.) “Hey, why not come up with a list of things you might like to do, and e-mail them to me anyway? Let's start there.”
“Great.”
And that was it. The thrust of our meeting.
Despite not being interested, but having been utterly bamboozled by the man's earnestness—he'd blown the smoke so far up my ass that it was clouding my brain—that same afternoon I sat in a local coffee shop for twenty minutes and rustled up a bunch of ideas that would make good television. And how did I know they