Radio Free Worcester
I rely a lot on radio. I spend a lot of time, sadly, in my car, but having the radio makes it more or less bearable. Usually I'm listening to one of the NPR stations, although sometimes in the evening if I'm making the long drive home from class, I'll have the baseball game on. The jury's out on how that choice affects my safety behind the wheel.The other morning when I got into the car to head to work, I realized I'd left the radio tuned to the AM station that had carried the game the night before. I was about to change it back to NPR when the conversation between the announcers piqued my interest. Apparently, it was 'National Underwear Day', which inspired much junior-high school jocularity about who was wearing (or not wearing) what. From there we launched into a far-too detailed description of the announcer's 'hybrid' model - he wasn't even aware that what he was wearing was called 'boxer-briefs', and it was all too apparent he was giddy with the anticipation of callers flooding the phones to tell him about their own underwear and comment on his choice.
First phone call: a shaky elderly voice on the line. I can smell lavender rinse.
"I'm...not...int-er-est-ed...in...your...un-der-wear...", she wavered, one careful syllable at a time."When...is...the...next...ci-ty...coun-cil...meet-ing...on...TV?"
The announcer, caught off guard and chafing at the lost opportunity to expound on the splendour of his skivvies, mumbles something sarcastic about how wonderful it is that people are interested in the televised city council meetings and that the mayor will be happy to know how high his ratings are. Somebody off-mic finds the meeting time, tells her the date and that it starts at 5 pm, since it's summer.
More locker-room ribbing in the announcement booth. Someone suggests that another announcer at their sister station wears a thong. Har har har. Someone else suggests that he stole it from a female announcer there. Har har har. George is running around in Jackie's thong, wait till Jackie finds out. Wait till George's wife finds out. Har har har.
Another caller! The announcer picks up the phone, chomping at the bit to bring all of Worcester into the glory that is National Underwear Day.
"The city council meeting is at 4 o'clock, not 5," says the elderly male voice on the phone.
The disappointment in the radio booth is palpable and pathetic. "Uh, OK, boy, the mayor's one popular guy. Thanks for the update!" You can tell that these guys would really prefer to be working for a 'cool' radio station, which would have thousands of listeners chortling in their cars on I-290 over an undies discussion. A station where, as Craig would say, you'd hear sound effects like toilets flushing in the background during the morning commute.
A third caller. "You're wearing boxer-briefs," he says.
Exultations of delight from the announcers! Much burbling and gurgling about the sense of the name, boxer-briefs, and how marvelously comfortable they are. "And what are you wearing?" they ask.
Click. Silence on the other end. Could it be, you know they are wondering, that there are only three people listening to this radio station, and none of them think it is good fun to talk about their underwear?
Well, there were at least four people listening that morning, but not for long. I thought the callers were much more entertaining than they were, and when the last one had hung up, I changed the station. Sorry, guys. Obviously you were meant for a radio world much bigger than mine.
posted by Maquinna @ 11:36 a.m.
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