This is a story about how I almost snuck into the Psych After Pshow (yes, the “p” is supposed to be there before “show”).
In the spirit of Shawn and Gus, who certainly would have gotten themselves into an after show that they weren’t invited to at all costs and probably in a hilarious and escapade-ish way, I’m going to retell this story as if I did successfully sneak in.
Psych, for those of you that aren’t familiar with the show, is a light-hearted, reference-overloading, quirky drama that just finished its eight season run on USA Network. I’ve watched the show since I was in high-school, and as I’m now almost two years out of college, the show (and its requisite pineapples) has been a part of my life for awhile.
My story starts on the March 26, the day the series finale aired, in the early evening. I had just taken the elevator to the lobby of NBC Universal, and was about to get my parking validated when I saw the sign.
More than one sign, many signs, for the Psych After Pshow, a live broadcast event featuring the show’s cast and creator airing after the series finale. Outside the waiting room where people were gathering, plastic tables and chairs were stationed replete with wristbands, staffed by women with green Psych badges hanging from laynards around their necks.
My heart rate went into overdrive. I was right outside the live Psych after show. What were the chances of that? Obviously I had to get in.
In a Psych-induced daze, I stumbled towards the glass doors that were keeping me from realizing my wildest hopes and dreams. Coincidentally, the people with the power to validate my parking were also behind these doors.
“If you’re here for parking validation, they’re not doing that here tonight, there’s a private event” said a lanyard-wearing woman flanking the glass doors. She pointed me in another direction.
As I stumbled in the direction she had indicated, I contemplated my options and then did what every normal, rational person what do when presented with the opportunity to attend the series finale live after show of their favorite show: I called my boyfriend and told him there was an emergency.
“There’s an emergency,” I stage whispered into the phone when he answered, stepping into the courtyard so as not to reveal my craziness to anyway that wasn’t already well aware of it. I explained the situation to him, abandoning grammar and sentence structure in my excitement and agitation. He told me a story involving his dad and parking at baseball games that I half-listened to before hanging up, assuring him of my resolve to somehow make it into the after show.
I decided to first try the most straight-forward and obvious approach to getting in: asking. I approached the tables in front of the glass doors once again, trying to seem bold and confident.
“Last name?” The woman behind the table asked me. I should have said “Smith,” of course, but hindsight is 20/20.
“Hi! Are there, um, any extra tickets?” Boldness and confidence weren’t on my side.
The woman at the table hesitated, looking confused. “This isn’t a ticketed event, you had to sign up ahead of time.”
“Okay, no problem…thanks anyway.”
Dejected, I walked away, only to realize that I still had yet to get my parking validated. I asked a security guard, who said that the only place to get my parking validated was behind the forbidden glass doors. I approached for a third time, only to get more firmly pointed in the another direction: the security office (which, I might add, is not where I was originally directed – or maybe my sense of direction, poor to start off with, suffered even more in my psych-addled state).
I entered the security office, a palpable air of defeat enveloping me, and handed my parking ticket to the security guard. Just as the security guard was about to stamp it, Dulé Hill a.ka. Gus, star of Psych, walked right behind me through the security office, flanked by official-looking people.
*Here’s where the fictional part of the story starts*
“Come to think of it, I won’t be needing that,” I told the security guard who was holding my parking ticket in his outstretched hand. Spinning around, I followed Mr. Hill and co. down the hall and then up a flight of stairs.
And just like that, I was backstage of the after show. The bustling room was strewn with production equipment and huge lights and cameras that were rapidly heating the relatively small space. Producers and PAs hurried back and forth, talking seemingly simultaneously into their headsets and to each other.
I realized that it would probably be a good idea to find a badge, and quickly, when someone holding a clipboard walked up to me.
“If you’re in the audience, we’re seating now. Or are you with the crew? What happened to your badge?”
It was time to sink or swim, and in true Shawn and Gus fashion, I decided I might as well go all out – what did I have to lose?
“Someone else had taken my badge by the time I showed up. That’s what I get for having such a common last name. Kathy Smith,” I said with a smile, shaking the hand that wasn’t attached to the clipboard. “I’m here to warm up the audience.”
Clipboard Man furrowed his brow. “Warm up the audience? I didn’t think Sharon hired anyone – I mean, that would be Kevin’s job if we needed someone to do it, but it’s really not necessary.”
I cut Clipboard Man off before he could finish. “Ah, but that’s before Sharon found me. I actually have the highest Yelp rating of all audience warm-upers in Los Angeles. Hollywood Reporter once named me ‘Most Likely To Get a Moderate But Hearty
Reaction From the Audience that Reminds Them That They’re Having Fun But That The Actual Show Will Probably Be Funnier.”
Craig gave me a bemused grimace and then strode off with his clipboard, muttering something under his breath about needing to find a new boss.
“We’re live in twenty!” Someone called out in a voice loud enough to be heard above the din.
Summoning all the Shawn and Gus/esque courage I had, I walked up to the stage, grabbing a mic on my way up.
“Hello Psych-os!” Welcome to the Psych After Pshow! We have a great show for you tonight and I’m here to get things started. Knock knock…” I then proceeded to tell twenty of my best knock knock jokes.
And that’s the story of how I was offered a part in the Psych movie.
*Disclaimer: a Psych movie has not actually been announced, but as you know, that part of the story was made up anyways. Hey, a girl can dream!
I may not have gotten into the after show for real, but at least I got a pretty good (half-fabricated) story out of it. Thanks for eight great seasons, Psych – your fans will miss you!
By Kathleen Toohill