Just getting on ‘Price is Right’ is a show in itself

So you always wanted to experience Bob Barker on “The Price of Right” but missed your chance.

Let me offer this consolation: It takes some serious stamina just to get into the audience. And getting the magical “come on down” to play the game takes pluck, luck and a plan.

I had a chance to see the legendary game show host, who retired Wednesday, work his television magic at a “Price is Right” taping last month in Los Angeles. As far as life experiences go, this was one to remember.

If you’ve never seen the show, it’s campy. The studio decor is trapped in the ’70s. Beauty queens in evening gowns present prizes like cutlery, refrigerators and bedroom sets.

An announcer, hair coifed into a sleek brown helmet, hollers, “Come on down” and a select few from the audience stumble to the front to play the game while the audience goes berserk. Barker reigns over it all, a cool, poised charmer.

The 83-year-old has built an adoring fan base in his 35 years as host, and many of those fans were willing to do anything to get on the show and kiss his leathery bronze cheek.

I do mean anything.

The day I was there, hundreds showed hoping to get into the studio audience. Many came the night before, camping on the sidewalk with cheap lawn chairs and Styrofoam coolers.

My mother-in-law, the instigator of this adventure, reserved tickets to the show, but we soon learned they were no guarantee. We arrived early at 6 a.m. and found a line around the block. My place in line: 599.

We joined a cross section of America, including wispy-haired octogenarians and over-caffeinated college students.

Just about everyone had created homemade T-shirts with glittery puffy paint, giant glued-on letters, ribbons and slogans designed to draw attention. My mother-in-law had spent a month thinking about her shirt, sporting a photo of her dog and “My pound puppy.”

As they funneled us and hundreds more into a covered outdoor pen lined with benches, I knew I was in trouble. I had no creative shirt.

In the next three hours, the staff of the show began taking the first several hundred people around the corner in small groups to some mysterious, out-of-sight location. They make the first taping. I begin to feel like a chump holding my No. 599 ticket.

After sitting and shivering and waiting for hours, I wonder how any of Bob’s elderly fans handle the sleepless night and long wait to watch this show.

At 11 a.m. the staff dismisses us but offers a glimmer of hope: Come back in a few hours. There will be one more taping today.

It’s this later show we got on.

On TV, it seems like the contestants who get to play for new cars and refrigerators are picked by chance. They’re not. Around a corner is a woman with a clipboard and an interviewer screening the audience members.

By the time they get to us, the woman with the clipboard isn’t writing any more names down. She’s staring at her toenails. Dreams of new cars and refrigerators evaporate.

When the audience finally heads into the studio, most are exhausted but jubilant. A man works the crowd, riling us to scream and stomp and stand up for America’s most beloved television game show host.

Inside the studio, it’s smaller and more intimate than the panning cameras make it appear on television. The game moves fast and the crowd is so loud we can hardly hear anything.

The action stops every few minutes. Barker, wearing a baby-pink tie and a metallic tan, charmed the studio audience during taping breaks, answering questions and chatting about his upcoming retirement.

In a blink, it’s over. Mother, in her pound puppy shirt, and I walk out into the California sunshine and call for a ride.

That’s Hollywood.

Reporter Debra Smith: 425-339-3197 or dsmith@ heraldnet.com.