So yesterday afternoon I received a call from a local anchor here in Green Bay, asking whether I’d be willing to appear live on the morning show.
“Sure,” I said. “What time?”
“5:50,” he replied.
“AM?”
“Yes.”
I told him I needed to check my schedule. Which is a euphemism for “Call the wife and figure out how badly I need to promote this book because I really loathe mornings and my body is still running on California time and it’s pretty cold out here and a 5:50 appearance means a 5 o’clock wakeup call and I’m getting pretty tired of talking about Brett Favre and …”
We spoke. She made the wise point that I’m not here as a tourist, or to relax. I’m here to sell books.
I called back. “OK,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
This morning I did it. My windshield was iced over. My brain was running at 63.2 percent. I arrived at the studio, met the two lead anchors, some production people and a weatherman. The female anchor told me, “I know it’s early—but we are Green Bay’s top-rated morning show!”
“Oh,” I said. “That’s pretty cool.”
She was wearing lime green; told me her alarm goes off at 2 am. I asked how many years she’s been doing this. “Only four,” she said.
Sweet Jesus.
The interview lasted—no exaggeration—five minutes. I was asked about Brett and Aaron Rodgers and why I wrote this book and what was it like and how do I feel.
Then I got back in my car and returned to the hotel.
And as I sit here, about to return to bed, it occurred to me: I have absolutely no idea what network, channel or show I was on.
