Somewhere Else: A Meditation on Rejection by a Former MTV VJ

Feb 8

On MTV’s 20th anniversary, we did a big live show at Roseland or Hammerstein Ballroom or one of those places. They brought back all the old VJs— I finally got to meet Martha Quinn but Kevin Seal did not show up—and they paired the artists of old up with the new guys. Sum 41 and Judas Priest, together at last! I introduced them, actually. It was how we kicked off the show, and I meant to say something like, “Sum 41, let’s get this party started,” but then my mind just kind of blanked on what to say for that second part. I just said, “Sum 41…” like there was going to be more in that sentence, but there wasn’t. The words “Sum 41” just hung in the air like an unanswered question and they waited a beat and started playing. I don’t know whether that awkward opening moment was why the show rated poorly, but it did, and they never re-aired it, and the network has not mentioned its age even one time since.

After the show, all of us current VJs co-hosted a party at whatever the club you were supposed to want to go to was at the time. Spa or Plaid or Chair or Plop or whatever. So I hopped in a Town Car and went down there. Getting in was kind of a pain, as it always is, because unless you’re very hot or very famous, you have to do some version of “do you know who I am,” which is mortifying. But I was one of the hosts of this party, and maybe I brought hot people with me, so we got in.

Once inside, everyone I worked with was in the VIP section, so I made my way there. And as I approached the velvet rope and gave the guy with the clipboard the little eyebrow-raise thing of “Yes hi, I’m here and nice, let me past you,” the guy looked right at me and just said, “Nah, dude.”

And I tried to nicely press the issue a little bit, and mention that I’m actually one of the hosts of this particular event, but he was unmoved. “Nah, dude.” Back and forth like this: “Yes, but see…” “Nah, dude.” Like one word: nahdude. A slur in the language of Clipboard People.

So I said, “Wait,” and I looked around to find a flyer for the party so that I could show him my face, which was on it, and Clipboard Guy put up one finger, looked me right in the eyes, and said, “Dude? S’not gonna happen for you tonight, and I need you to deal with the rejection somewhere else.”

It honestly took my breath away. Unbelievably cruel and vicious and…awesome? I hate it, but I respect it? It was like one of those severe injuries where the shock kicks in right away and you don’t actually feel any pain at the moment, you’re just like: wow, that fucked me up.

Anyway, in that moment, someone from within the VIP area did identify me and convince Clipboard Guy that I should be let in, so I was, and I have no idea whether the party was any good because I never left the VIP area, and you wouldn’t have either.

So that’s why I can’t listen to Sum 41 anymore.