02-04-00 Eastern Echo

Is that your final answer? I wanna meet Regis!

By now you must have heard about that hot new game show, "Who Wants to be a Millionaire" on ABC. People all over the world are spending three evenings a week sitting in front of their television screens shouting, "Yes, Regis. That is my FINAL ANSWER!" My 7-year-old daughter considers herself a trivia expert now that she can answer questions like, "What do you use to row a boat? A) beam, B) oar, C) hack, D) wheel." "OAR!" she shouts at the TV, "It's OAR. Even I know that." And isn't that the ultimate draw of this show? That even a 7-year-old can answer some of the questions and cockily end her tirade with, "That IS my final answer." And so after Tuesday night's broadcast I decided that I, too, would like to be a millionaire. "Gimme the phone!" I shout as they display the 800 number to call to enter the contest. I ain't no Einstein, but I definitely know there is no such type of apple as a "Yellow Luscious." And hey, they're having problems getting female contestants on this show-of-shows, perhaps they'll give me some easy ones in the qualifying round. I dial, my shaking hands making the phone jiggle and jump against my ear. It rings-once, twice, and then...nothing. Dead air. I hang up and dial again. Same dang thing. What's the story here? They said the lines would be open until 2 A.M. but I'm getting nothing here. Dead air, dead air. Feeling a little frantic, I check ABC online. Maybe I have the wrong number. (I ain't no Einstein, remember?) No. It's right there, 1-800-433-8321. You'd think if their phone lines were overwhelmed with other idiots (excuse me, anti-Einsteins) like me, they'd at least have a taped message saying, "All of our lines are busy right now, but keep dialing until your fingers blister and maybe next week you'll have no lifelines left after only 4 questions." Dead air. Isn't that a broadcaster's nightmare? Should I continue to dial, waiting for Regis to pick up the phone in the Big Apple, until the wee hours of the morning? Should I listen to the dead air for an hour and a half before trying again? Man, what should I do? What should I do? A lifeline. That's it. Use a lifeline. Okay, I'm polling the audience. Should I - A) Continue to dial until my fingers are bloody pulps, B) Listen to dead air and hum the tune "New York, New York" until I'm hoarse, C) Look for Regis' number in the white pages and leave him a nasty message, or D) Get a life. Okay, a life would be good. I don't need to sit on a fantastically overdone stage with America's whitest-toothed sweetheart and show my spectacular ignorance of American politics or the breeding habits of the Tse-tse fly. I don't need to drone on endlessly about how I just read in the Journal of American Ultralight Aircraft that the Piper is notoriously prone to cabin pressure loss. I don't need to call one of my Einstein-ish relatives to find out who was the fifth president of the United States. (It was James Monroe. If you don't believe me, ask Professor Gilbert Cross of the English Department.) My life is exciting enough. The hell with Regis. The hell with being a millionaire. The hell with&ldots;wait, someone answered this time. Hello? Yes. My birthdate. I know that one! Last four digits of my social security number. I'm on a roll here! Three simple questions and New York here I come! The sixth president of the United States? Oh, s***. (Edit) �