5:17 PM |
The Look of Being Punched in the Stomach
Although I have seen the YouTube clip of the announcement itself, I have never really seen the last 30 minutes of American Idol's 2-hour finale for real. There were appointments to keep. Last night, for example, I had to go to the last poetry reading for the Dumaguete National Writers Workshop over at Kitty Taniguchi's Mariyah Gallery -- although I purposely made myself late by 1 and a half hours. But eventually I had to go, and right before Carrie Underwood sang, too. Couldn't even see the midnight replay, because I went out drinking with the poet Lito Zulueta. We've promised ourselves coffee or a late-night drink forever, since 2005, and could never keep the date (last year, when he arrived in Dumaguete to panel for the last week of the workshop, I had to go to India, and on and on, just like that...). And today, I couldn't see the noontime replay because I had to keep my lunch date with fictionist Bing Sitoy. What can I say, writerly commitments galore.
But I've seen the jubilation in Kansas City when David Cook was announced as the new Idol. I've always wondered though: whatever happens in that other city where the losing candidate comes from? Imagine the stadium-full of people. Imagine the heightened expectation for a win. Imagine the shock of the letdown. I could never imagine it.
Until I saw how exactly that goes in this video...
Like what the newscaster says, like being punched in the stomach all at the same time.
And now, I have to go to Hayahay, for the Fellow's Night, and their graduation...