Where were YOU?
I was in my bedroom, livestreaming the show at my computer. That in and of itself was unusual. The show begins at 11pm where I live, and I'm usually in bed by 10. (Look, I'm not a night person, ok? I just can't do nights . . .) So I usually just podcast it, but tonight I happened to be up a little later than usual, and thought I'd listen to a little right before bed. I ran off to brush my teeth during a song, heh, (and was confused when I checked back and a new song was playing. 'They only play one song during the break, wtf?' But apparently it was a brief power outage) and I came back as the Random John segment was just starting. 'Oh, listen to Random John before bed, just this one last segment,' I think to myself.
I confess I'd long ago given up all hope of their ever succeeding at the game. Sure, I had high hopes the first several weeks, but as time wore on and talk of statistical odds and sanity set it, a rational girl like me can't possibly go on believing. It would be just another silly segment gone the way of The People's Bull and The People's Hoverboard and all the rest. (Or Adam's Hill. I really wanted that one.) I think in our heart of hearts, we all knew that. It's like when a kid grows old enough to realize Santa probably doesn't exist.
But like a kid nostalgic and reluctant to let go of her old childhood joy, I was reluctant to cast aside all hope. Like Fox Mulder, I wanted to believe. So you don't outwardly speak of your doubts, and you 'get into it' anyway as best you can, wanting to work up your hopes again, because you don't want to let that myth go. I still believe in John. I do, I do.
So, when they put in the number and it started to ring, I went through the usual ritual I did every week when listening to the segment, chanting "John! John! John!" as the phone rang and allowing myself that small hope against all odds.
I happened to be in the middle of pulling a medication pill out of a bottle when IT happened, which I suppose just goes to show I was treating this segment with a little more casualness and a little less focus than I used to.
The brilliant thing is, it wasn't one of those uncertain phone calls. Most of the time, you'll get people who just say 'hello' when they answer, and then you have to ask for their name before knowing if you got lucky or not. But this time, when the phone finally picked up, the first thing you heard after hello was this voice telling you, unequivocally, undeniably, immediately that this was John's phone. There was no doubt. You knew instantly that it was so. Then there was a half second of sheer disbelief and shock.
It's a bit of a blur after that. I remember I shouted and cheered, though I really don't remember what I was saying. I bounced in my seat and banged the desktop. I got out of the chair at some point and bounced/danced around the room. I'd hurt my foot earlier that day during tai-chi so it was quite sore and very hard to walk on, thus it was quite a pathetic excited hobble, but I did it anyway. I didn't care, this had to have a victory dance even if it cost me a foot. At some point while I was dancing around Hamish was babbling about poisoned cordial for some reason, but any nonsense seemed to make perfect sense in that moment. I know at one point I shouted "JOHN!" at the bedroom wall and it vaguely occurred to me that my dad was probably going to be pretty annoyed at all this noise (he was sleeping in the next room).
Eventually I calmed down enough to send out a few erratic tweets about it and then Andy started talking about how it might not count (psssh, as if). I listened until they got back the ruling on it being an official Johnpoint and then went to bed. (Though there was no reason to now. After that adrenaline, really now, how could you try to sleep?)
Looking back, I still can't believe how lucky I am that I happened to be listening when it happened, because as I said, I almost never listen to the show live. It did occur to me a few weeks ago that if they ever DID get a John, I would in all probability have that fact spoiled long before listening to the podcast. They would no doubt immediately tweet about it. Who woudn't? And then I'd mostly feel the sting of disappointment at having it spoilt and having missed the moment live. The fact that I was listening live is almost as incredible a statistical odd as having found a John. That night was doubly lucky for me. (For all my fellow podcasters who missed the moment: you have my sincere sympathy. I have missed stuff I've wanted to see live before, so I do know the feeling. it is the cross the international fan must bear, alas, the cross of time zones.)
In short: I was witness to history.
Through some John-powered miracle, (or the sleep medication I took, perhaps) I was able to eventually fall asleep, and the feeling of waking the next morning after having gotten a John . . . . aaah. There's nothing like it, people. There's just nothing like it.
So, where were YOU when Hamish and Andy found a John?