Background

- I’ve been a longtime Conan fan, for fourteen years now. I always knew that I wanted to see Conan live during my lifetime.
- I knew I could see Conan if I had enough money to see him in New York for Late Night, or wait for him to inherit The Tonight Show so he would move to Los Angeles, where my aunt lives; whichever came first. Obviously, the money didn’t.
- As soon as my aunt confirmed that we were going to L.A. for the holidays, I knew it was finally my chance to see Conan. I checked the ticket page on the Tonight Show website every single day, for bookings to open for the dates coinciding with our holidays.
- I sent an e-mail request for tickets as soon as our booking dates opened.
- I waited for what seemed like an eternity for a response. I was beginning to believe that I would never see Conan.
- Ten days later, I got the e-mail confirmation. The computer-generated lottery gave me the day right after our evening flight lands in L.A.
- Catch was, only a maximum of four tickets would be requested by one person at a time. Someone in the family had to stay. My youngest brother was just three days shy of his sixteenth birthday, and one had to be over sixteen to be an audience member. He grudgingly had to stay home and watch the evening’s Orlando Magic-Miami Heat game in high-definition.

C-Day

We left my aunt’s house at 1:30 in the afternoon. My dad was driving and ordered me to navigate and operate the GPS. He warned that I better know where I’m taking him, or he’ll turn the car around and head back home.

Murphy’s law!

A slow-responding GPS put us in a couple of death-defying incidents on the freeway (You know that freeway scene in Clueless? Something like that.), but it was also mysteriously configured to get us out of the freeway as quickly as possible, and it forced us to take the side streets.

My mistake was that I entered the Universal Studios theme park into the GPS, when the entrance for Tonight Show audience members was on the other side of the mountain. The parking attendant at the theme park told us to “Go down the hill, make a right, 101-North to Lankershim,” but it sounded like a foreign language to us non-residents.

I missed the 101-North entrance and made my dad take the next right on Cahuenga. I still couldn’t get the GPS to work properly, and I had no idea where we were going. I told my dad to pull over to the side. He was already threatening to head home. I was even considering turning around anyway and see this lifelong dream shatter.

I called my aunt and explained our situation. She knew that Cahuenga was connected to Lankershim, but she wasn’t that familiar with the street, and I couldn’t accurately explain where we were either.

A Vietnamese car salesman (we were parked across a row of car dealerships) knocked on our window. “Need any help?” he asked.

“I need to get to Lankershim,” I replied.

“Three lights down, take a right.”

Back down Cahuenga we went, counting the traffic lights we encountered. But by only the second light, I saw the sign for Lankershim. “Turn right now! Here!” I exclaimed, prompting my dad to make another sharp right turn and swear at me.

But anyway, we saw the Universal Studios sign on Lankershim and the sign for Tonight Show parking. Finally!

We had to walk a good kilometer or so, and caught up with another quartet in front of us, safely assuming that they were on their way to see Conan too. Signs marked the Tonight Show audience path on Lankershim, assuring us that we were going the right way.

Across James Stewart Ave. and just before the audience holding area, there was already an NBC page (a real life Kenneth!) waiting. He asked for the quartet’s reservation print-out and checked it, and instructed them how to get there. When they crossed the street, I just flashed our reservation to the page. “…And you guys can just follow them,” he chuckled.

At the holding area, a female page asked for my last name and photo ID, and if all four guests were present. After checking my name on the list, she led us to another page, who gave us each a pink-colored ticket, and a male page next to her put bands around our wrists. I asked where the restroom was, and I was told to go straight down the end.

As I was about to do so, we were stopped by another page, who told us that pink ticket holders should just wait at this point in their places. We had inadvertently overtaken the quartet earlier to somewhere to the front of the pink line, all because I needed to use the restroom.

But, oh, one couldn’t just use the restroom at any time. There were “bathroom escorts” who had to take groups to the restrooms inside Universal Studios. I had to wait for the bathroom escort and the previous group to come back before I could take my turn. My mom and I went, and we were the last ones left in the restroom, so I told her to hurry up. The bathroom escorts wouldn’t return to the holding area until the group was complete.

We had missed out on gold tickets, given to early birds. They get into the studio early and get the good seats. But we were somewhere at the head of the pink pack. While waiting, free water was provided, and we checked out souvenirs and snacks at the kiosk in the holding area. I bought three Conan shirts at $25 each, for my brothers and myself.

At last, we were let into the studio at 4:15 p.m., but not after a final bathroom break. We were warned that that would be the last bathroom break until the show is over, and that no photography or video recording was allowed in the studio. If we were caught, they would kick us out automatically.

Pre-Show

As with everything on TV, the Tonight Show set looks smaller in real life than it does on TV. We were led in through the same doors that Cody Devereaux always storms out of while crying. Cody just didn’t have go through the metal detectors we did.

Pages assigned the seats to us; we couldn’t just run in and choose seats to our liking. Luckily, we got the section that was right in front of Conan’s desk, albeit the last row before the bleachers. My seat was next to one of the spotlight operators. The seats were large, soft, comfortable, and plush; and combined with the cold air-conditioning and our exhaustion from last night’s flight, my parents, brother, and I found ourselves dozing. I did get to notice one of the stage hands placing Conan’s iconic mug, filled with water (or so I assume) on his desk, and I counted about thirteen boom mics above our heads to pick up the audience’s applause and laughter. While we were waiting, some burly bouncers were peering at the audience from the floor, presumably to catch offenders with cameras or camera phones. No wiseguys dared to attempt to sneak a photograph.

When the spotlight operator took his seat, he swiveled the spotlight and I got to take a peek at his cue sheet, detailing the sketches for the night’s show. I frowned a bit when I didn’t see the word “Conando”.

At 5:15, a man with a microphone got the audience’s full attention (and jolted the four of us awake, because his microphone was turned up high). It wasn’t Conan, but Jimmy Pardo, a comedian meant to warm up the audience. He asked for out-of-towners in the audience and interviewed them while making jokes about them, and showed us the “Applause” signs above our heads. He also told us that legally, we were to note where the emergency exits were. Then, he introduced Andy Richter to raucous cheers.

Andy then introduced the Tonight Show band members, and each one made his entrance after Andy called out their names. Max Weinberg was last, of course, and the band launched into a nice ditty when they were complete, with trombonist Mark Pender singing and even going into the audience. Mark got to display his circular breathing skills to prolong a note for well over a minute, and the band led the audience to chant, “Hold that note!”

Showtime!

After a few more minutes, the lights dimmed, and the stage manager announced that the show was going to start. The band then launched into the first few notes of Conan’s theme song, and headphone-clad Andy announced the familiar opening phrase, “From Universal Studios in Hollywood, it’s the Tonight Show with Conan O’Brien!”, getting the audience all hot and bothered, all the more so when Conan finally emerged. Conan is tall! I was just absolutely ecstatic that I was finally seeing this tall, lanky, pale, redheaded freak in person.

It was actually difficult to hear Conan, as their mics couldn’t be turned up high, or else they’d pick up the feedback on the broadcast. And when Conan would do his usual funny movements, in person, it’s all the more obvious how long his limbs are. I teared up laughing during the monologue. One is more receptive to the monologue jokes when hearing them live.

A couple of taped skits were shown, and instead of focusing on the monitors above our heads, I instead opted to watch Conan’s reactions to what was being aired. I wanted to relish my entire sixty minute stay with him before my eyes—I mean, it’s a rare opportunity to have Conan O’Brien standing right in front of me. During taped skits, Conan stays at his usual monologue spot and watches one of the monitors on his right. He would especially laugh at Andy’s funny moments, during a skit when Andy was supposedly a contestant on Dancing with the Stars.

The other skit they showed was that of Conan taking a holiday job as a Best Buy salesman. I told my family, “That looks like the Best Buy on Los Feliz!” but they weren’t too sure. I had no idea what was going on with the skit; I had my eyes on Conan the whole time, and he laughed at a few of his own jokes, or presumably the way it was all edited in the final cut.

During commercial breaks, the band kept playing, and producer Jeff Ross and the stage manager would huddle in with Conan. Fellow Bostonian and former Late Night with Conan O’Brien intern John Krasinski was the first guest (“He’s handsome,” my mom remarked), and so my dad got the bonus of Larry Bird being name-checked. The second guest was a well-endowed female British “molecular mixologist”, which is really just a pretentious way of saying “bartender”. Although my vantage point was obscured by the center camera, it’s always fun when an Irishman gets involved with alcohol.

I always wondered what happens to Conan’s jacket when he takes it off and throws it on the floor. Does an assistant get it? Does he get a new jacket? I got my answer during the bartending segment—he picks it up and puts it back on himself during the commercial break.

The only time the band didn’t play was during the commercial break right before the musical number; instead, recorded music was being played. Max was air-drumming along to the taped music during the commercial break. The musical guest was Robin Thicke, Alan Thicke’s son, and it was a bit awkward hearing him sing a song called “Sex Therapy” when my parents and younger brother were there with me. But, hey, he was good-looking in person, and I even crushed on Alan Thicke back on Growing Pains. Uhm.

When Conan says “Good night, everybody, bye!”, it marks the end of the TV broadcast, but what isn’t seen on TV is Conan’s singing number, “The End of the Show Song”, a treat for the live studio audience. I’d always wanted to catch a show where Conan sings, and it turns out he does it for every show. That’s cool with me!

Another treat that wasn’t aired on TV was the taping of the promos, with all the guests on the couch beside Conan. They taped three different ones, with the change being Conan’s opening “Hey ____”. The first two, Conan said a couple of names, while the third one was the generic, “Hey, everybody!” During the taping of that last one, he kept pulling funny faces with the camera closed up on his face, to our laughter.

Conan thanked us for being a great audience, and gave props to Max Weinberg and the Tonight Show Band, before they made their way out stage right. The pages instructed us that we were to exit in order, according to row. We were one of the last few out, being in the center.

The audience walked in big groups back out towards the parking lot. I overheard a guy talking on his cell phone, saying, “He’s as baby-faced in real life as he is on TV.” My brother and I took a few photo ops at the Tonight Show parking signs, and we had to surrender one of our tickets (my dad’s was chosen, because it was the most crumpled one) to avail of the $10 parking fee for Tonight Show audience members (regular parking costs $15 for three hours, and $3 for every excess hour on top of that). The GPS again made us avoid the freeway, and took us onto Alameda all the way back to Glendale, but at least we didn’t get lost.

Epilogue

I had no idea at that time that that would be one of Conan’s last few Tonight Shows, so my family and I were definitely lucky to have caught him in Los Angeles. I was just happy that I finally fulfilled a long-time wish to watch Conan tape one of his shows.

We didn’t catch the night’s broadcast, because we were still tired from our flight. The next day, however, the whole family went to Best Buy on Los Feliz, and my youngest brother and I wore our Conan shirts.

As we were on our way out of Best Buy, we got confirmation that Conan was there at that very branch.