So when I last left you a young, non-crazy Britney Spears was taping a concert at Disney MGM Studios, infront of the Rock n Rollercoaster for about 2500 girls and their moms. Since this was a rehearsal, not all the production elements were in place, most namely, Britney's top.
When Britney turned around to face the audience after a contorted dance number, in the true fashion of Tara Reid and Janet Jackson, Ms. Spears was, ahem, exposed. Well, of course, the mothers were dumbstruck, the director was embarassed, but not Ms. Spears, she remained calm and collected; almost as if she had noticed her breasts had popped out.
While Britney was stuffing herself back in, Disney personnel braced for impact; everyone imagined the throngs of angry mothers going straight to Guest Relations to exclaim how Disney was responisble for sullying the adolescence of their daughters. Managers were tripping over eachother in attempts to provide some damage control, others unable to move much like a deer in headlights; but we coordinators were steadfast. One of my favorite peers, went over to the camera guy and calmly asked, "Did you get that?"
These are the times I cherished being a PC. Other times, well, not so much. Let me tell you about a little thing called Super Soap Weekend. (Please do not read on if you are easily offended).
Super Soap Weekend, in my words and my words only, seems to be the only time that 40,000 three hundred pound women leave the house to shmooze with female ABC soap stars, and eye hump the men. Now, I wouldn't have a problem with these lovely ladies if they a) didn't all drive motorized carts, and b)have some common deceny. It's like this:
For an entire weekend MGM is turned into a Soap fans wet dream. There are meet and greets, concerts, trivia, soap stars taking their shirts off (unfortunately, guys). While it's soap fan nirvana, it's my personal Hell.
Planning for this thing is crazy, everyone whose anyone is tapped to handle this event. Queues have to be devised, stanchions (movable poles) have to be stolen from all around property, talent has to be coordinated, and we PC's give up all kind of rest. It's literally a month of planning, then when the weekend arrives we just sleep when we can, where we can (thank you Banditland @ GMR). So let me take you to Saturday morning. We get in about 3am, and as you are walking in, you can see the beat up motor homes with a whole bunch of Bertha's/Betty's/Marge's/ and Thelma's inside. These ladies will line up outside the gate for an 8:30am opening, you would think they were waiting for Stones tickets.
Anyways, the moment the gates open is a term a I affectionately call "The Stampede". Trust me, if you've seen the bulls in Spain, you've seen Saturday morning during Super Soap Weekend. It's bedlam. Since the event is parkwide the ladies spread out and wreak havoc on the park the Mouse built. Oddly enough, the park is packed while most of the rides will have walk on times during this weekend.
I was always in charge of New York St. and the Arch. Susan Lucci came every year and always remembered me. She is a very tiny, but extremely nice person. The stars will do 2 signings a day, plus Q&A's, and Wally Kurth's band will always play some crap music. My whole day is getting more headshots, water, and trying to be personal WDW diplomat to the guests (who are always angry), because it's too hot, there's not enough shade, Kelly Ripa's too thin, or why Brad Taylor won't take his shirt off.
The best part of SSW are the weeks that follow it. That's when we have to clean up the pigsty and return all the crap we stole from other parts of WDW. My favorite memory was being in a rented Ryder truck with expired tags, with a driver who had an expired license, stolen stanchions in the back, and ramming the awning to the monorail track infront of about 500 guests. Classic.