My love for Tyra Banks comes from a very confusing place deep inside my soul. It is an impure love, tinged with dislike and mockery, peppered with genuine admiration and appreciation. It is a love that most cannot begin to fathom.
What's that? Get a grip? Okay, but in the words of one of my traveling companions, Ms. Paige, let's be real. I am a Tyra fan, but not a true Tyra fan. I came to love her out of mocking her, and that is also how I came to arrive at her show. Ashley and I realized that we could apply for Tyra tickets on her Web site. As a joke, thinking we would never actually go, we applied.
A few weeks later, my boy Mike from Tyra called to tell us we had tickets. And so it began, a weeks-long planning extravaganza. We were going to Tyra-- Paige, Katie, Ashley and Me, and oh! it would be glorious. I told everyone I knew, and even the occasional stranger. Weeks in advance, Ibegan wracking my brain for an outfit that was Tyra-worthy. (The Tyra show has a strict dress code that makes one wonder how anyone gets in. Some people who attended our taping clearly did not read the guidelines. Most were subsequently placed in the back rows, where the outfits deemed inappropriate or garish by the Tyra staff, could not be seen by the discriminating eyes of the camera... or Tyra).
After several hours of traveling patiently with my lady friends, we arrived at Tyra's studio in Chelsea. Tyra's studio is immediately next to Martha Stewart's. What a unique pairing those two would make. My mind wandered, imagining the limitless possibilities of a Tyra/Martha friendship.... or showdown? I hope Martha invites Tyra on her show. And I hope she interviews her with the same gumption that she did with Lindsay Lohan, here.
After we stood on a ramp for about an hour, we were shuffled into a waiting room where Tyra propaganda spewed from several 13-inch televisions. But I found it hard to focus on the screens because of all the incredible opportunities to people watch. What an extraordinary cross-section of people that Tyra attracts. There were a multitude of Jersey girls who ranged greatly in their allegiance to traditional Jersey stereotypes. Middle-aged women wander aimlessly and look confused about where they are and how they got there. There is the occasional male companion, who you just know got dragged along by a particularly unrelenting mate. There was a girl dressed all in white who pestered a Tyra staff member for at least fifteen minutes about where she would be seated and whether the staff was concerned that she would detract attention from Tyra (bitch, please).
Fast forward to the good stuff. We are shuffled to the studio in a gargantuan freight elevator, which we learned was used to transport an elephant to Howard Stern six years earlier. Note to Tyra: Invite more Circus animals.
We were seated in prime Tyra-viewing territory. The pink and purple lights cascade over the audience. Smoke from dry ice is flowing out onto the aisle next to us. The audience was instructed to get on their feet, clap like they're bringing back every dead fairy non-believers ever killed, and to scream like wild banshees. So that is exactly what we did.
Tyra emerged, an even more breathtaking spectacle in person. Okay, I said it, a breathtaking spectacle. Ashley was not fully on board with my use of the word ''breathaking" but I am not ashamed that I was quite swept up the appearance Ms. Banks.
The show continued, with Tyra spending much of it perched on the stair immediately in front of our row. We stared in awe and excitement as Tyra employed expert Dr. Braverman to assess the lifestyles of various women on stage and pinpoint the exact age of their death.
Sound morbid? A little farfetched? It is, but show topic was ''When will I die?" and really, you can't expect too much from the Tyra Show. After being presented with a few key facts, the audience would cold-heartedly scream out the name of whichever woman they thought would die first. It felt odd and wrong to predict death dates for relatively healthy, vibrant people, but with Tyra looking on approvingly, any shame I felt quickly evaporated. I was so overcome by the spell of the Tyra Show, there is no telling what else I would have done. Equally spellbound, Ashley even got up and answer a question about why she thought one woman was doomed to a particularly early demise. I certainly hope this makes it into the final cut, however disgruntled that may make her. It'll be a story for the grandkids (which we seem to be accumulating at an ever more rapid pace).
For the last couple of segments, two 100+-year-old were wheeled out to reveal the secrets to a long and healthy life. Both of the old women seemed quite taken by Tyra, one stroking her hair and looking with earnest wonder at the cameras and lights, saying ''I have been all over the world and have never seen anything like this."
Even a woman that has survived two world wars and the holocaust can still be awestruck by the Tyra spectacle. Imagine the wonder that would take place if she took me up on the circus suggestion.
The other woman made her an afghan blanket, which made Tyra tear up, as it was made using same stitch that Grandma Tyra had taught her many moons ago. Ms. Banks proceeded to drape this blanket over her lap, where it remained for the rest of the show. I expect that Tyra will keep this blanket in a special place and wax poetic about it on a ''best of" clips show in the future.
Though we left without so much as a wave or a thank you from Tyra, or even a free goodie under our seats, I couldn't have felt more satisfied. The experience at The Tyra Show was a truly unique one, and made even better by the fact that I got to share it with three other girls who find Tyra as simulatenously wonderful, hilarious and ridiculous as I do.
Riding home in sleepy satisfaction, we people-watched some more on the train. The main attraction: a May-December couple playing vigorous tonsil hockey next to two disbelieving high school girls. In the car we played frustrating games of 20 questions, our brains too swollen with left-over adrenaline from Tyra to come up with simple answers. We arrived home at 12:40am, exhausted but in the best way possible. The 5am wake up call was entirely worth it as we snuggled into our beds. Any day filled to the brim with good friends, Tyra Banks and the many joys of train travel (Katie), can't be much less than perfect.
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