Faking It
Reality television has a new hero. Sure, we've all had our moments with one of our television pseudo peers - maybe Zora's natural honesty was your thing, perhaps you have been inspired by some of the victors on Survivor, perchance your own self intellectual image received a major boost each time Joe Millionaire uttered this or that or you found yourself somehow satisfied whenever you were introduced to the latest Real World participant who found herself continuously getting together with that one guy who never treated her right (as one who was labeled as "nice" throughout high school, I can vouch for the reality of that reality). For some, the troublesome image of Justin Guarini's hair has been impossible to shake while for others, Trista's remarkably bad taste made us feel like maybe we had a shot of someday getting the girl. Later we encountered the new blurry, green reality television seen on CNN, MSNBC and Fox (earlier this week, Geraldo blew up a tank - there's no way Trista could've resisted such charms) which has been much more compelling than anything we've seen before (it's ironic though that one could have watched non-stop the sanitized war coverage on U.S. cable networks and still avoided anything as gross or nasty as that which is featured weekly on Fear Factor).Yes, Monica Lewinsky is set to throw her blue dress into the ring as a reality show host (can her boss be far behind?) and an innocent group of contestants are yet to climb the gold-leafed peaks of Mount Ego in a Mark Burnett produced series starring The Donald. But the battle is over (although sporadic pockets of resistance are still expected). Especially in these patriotic times, America needed a reality show participant that we could look up to, a place of honor and distinction at which we could gaze and to which we could aspire. That place of distinction may very well be Bill Krejci's basement.
Those in the know would've immediately recognized Bill Krejci when he was introduced as the latest contestant on The Learning Channel's reality show called Faking It. This show pulls a participant from one walk of life and then requires that person to train nearly nonstop for a month in an effort to convincingly play the role of an entirely different character (I'd like to see Freddie Prinze Jr. try to pull that one off). Krejci is a self-described poster child for beer drinkers across America. Beyond merely the symbolic, Mr. Krejci is the captain of the U.S. Beer Drinking Team. Over the years, he has transformed the basement of his home into a full bar (full of beer, anyway) complete with several couches and big screen television around which he and his friends gather weekly to watch their beloved Chicago Bears. Bill also manages to maintain a wife, kids, a job and a life. In a word, whazzup.
In his episode of Faking It Bill Krejci was required to travel to San Francisco where he had one month to pass himself off as a sommelier at one of the city's finest restaurants. To achieve this, Krejci would be forced to suffer the slings and arrows of wine experts, hair stylists, tailors and even a voice coach. The goal as it was described to Krejci was to replace beer drinking Bill with the all-new William. In essence, the job of those training Krejci was (at least in his mind) to destroy Bill.
First to go during the transformation was the beer that Bill so loved. Early in his training, Bill admitted to the cameras that, "I really miss beer. I would kill everyone in this city for one small drop of beer." (Even as a citizen who resides within the city limits of the aforementioned wrath, it was difficult not to be somehow moved). Over time, the absence of beer proved to be a mere hint of what was being stripped from Krejci, and the wear and tear showed especially when his Sunday with the Bears was threatened. "I love my sports. I love my beer. I love my family. And they're trying to take it all away from me, and it's really pissing me off." (That comment alone was enough to add another star to the lapel of Krejci's Beer Drinkers of America bowling shirt.)
As Bill slowly (and frankly, surprisingly) became familiar with wine and began to morph into William (gone the Chicago accent, gone the natural hairstyle, gone the suds), he grew even more frustrated with the world into which he was being drawn. "I'm really sick of this pretentious attitude. It's friggin wine. It's grapes. It's sugar. It's yeast. It's nothing else. Beer is much more complex. And that's what these people don't understand. They think because it's wine, it's so much better, so complex - you know what? Screw you!" If one listened closely, one could almost hear the between-gulp cheers of Sundays past echoing from the Krejci basement.
Amazingly, Bill Krejci managed to fool a well-known sommelier into believing that he was William, a master of the craft. But it didn't come easy. And William could never have done it alone as Krejci explained during a quiet moment only days before the curtain was raised: "I miss myself. I really miss Bill. I haven't seen Bill for awhile. I know it's a role. I know it's a game and I know it's not real. But if I lose Bill, I lose the challenge and that's what they don't understand. Bill plus William equals victory." The last line of this telling monologue could have easily been the slogan for Clinton's second term election.
Of course, Bill wasn't the only one faking it. Every job or role we have in our lives requires a bit of faking. During one period in my life I was Mr. Pell, a baggy pants wearing teacher at a high school in the Crown Heights section of Brooklyn. A few years later I was Dave, a seed investor in internet startups, a role for which I reprised almost none of my outward personality traits from my teaching days (aside from the baggy pants); although Mr. Pell did at one point require Dave to write I will never again piss my family's money down history's most laughable financial hole about 300,000 times on the chalkboard (I've also been forced to sit in the corner wearing a Kozmo fleece and a Webvan cap from early 2000 through the present).
Even those who diligently trained Bill Krejci to become a sommelier are sort of faking it during their nightly stints at some of their city's finest restaurants (at least they better be or I want my tips back). We're all part Bill and part William and we just change the ratio according to the requirements of the scene. I've even started wearing pants that fit properly. At the end of Bill Krejci's journey he sat down with his trainers and the show's crew. Everyone around the circle held a glass of red wine. Except Bill. He gripped a bottle of Miller Lite. And when he brought the bottle to his lips, you could see the excitement in his eyes. But if you looked closely, you could see just a little disappointment coming from the direction of William's upturned nose. Still, after a few gulps, Bill managed to fake his way through it (and one imagines another twelve or so bottles) just fine.
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