Interviewer: what are you going to be when you grow up?
Interviewer: how are you going to do that
Teen: you know...connections...
So when I moved to Toronto to be a famous writer that was pretty much my plan. Not actually writing or anything, just having connections. And within just a few weeks of being there my plan started to look like it just might work. My new friend was dating the editor of a magazine and he told us we could do some interviews for him.
He called us at 11pm one night and said to get ready because he was sending us into "the lion's den" in the morning. (He liked to scare teens...like lion's den? Who says that?). We were going to interview Boot Camp Clik who I had never heard of because I didn't know anything about anything.
We internetted them and read all their other interviews. We didn't understand what they were talking about most of the time. And then we stumbled upon this interesting fact: BCC had done an album with Tupac which was never released. Now maybe it was all the weed being smoked at the time but we decided that THIS would be the focus of the interview. That we would use HARD-HITTING journalism to get the truth from them! And once the Tupac mystery was revealed we would be FAMOUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
After we had written our questions out on cuecards (I had just graduated high school so I thought I was being "professional") we stayed up until very late choosing our outfits. Oh god. I don't even want to get into what I wore. Just try to imagine what a middle-class white girl who has just moved to the big city would think was "hip-hop"...ow I'm getting a face cramp from cringeing so much.
The interview was at a hotel and we had envisioned hanging out in their luxury room where there would be champagne and platters of grapes and we would smoke joints with them and be the best of friends. But when we arrived a little late after having to purchase a disposable camera to take pictures there were already about fifty terrifying media people surrounding them in the lounge. Real ones, with those big rectangular cameras and real microphones (not 80s mini-tape dictation machines like some people...).
When we eventually sat down with them, surrounded by all the other media people, I fumbled with my cue cards as my friend held out the dictation machine to whoever was talking (cause it was so crappy we had to hold it right up to their faces). And unlike the interviewers before who had had a conversation with them I was unable to do anything but awkwardly read out my questions one after the other:
"so. where.did.you.grow.up? :)"
Then I would pretend like I wasn't reading my cuecards for ooone second before quickly looking back down at my lap, again, like in high school.After an eternity in nerd years it came time for the HARD HITTING Tupac question. I put on my "let's get serious" tone which was a lot like my "I'm scared" tone. And got to it:
"so you did an album with Tupac, CORRECT?"
"yeah, it was called One Nation...it was about not having this East Coast West Coast separation...it was never released though"
"oh really? almost like...a conspiracy???????????"
"yeah...you could say that..haha"
"interesting...hmm...sooo anyways...WHO KILLED TUPAC?????"
I wish that was an exaggeration but that is exactly what I asked. I know because I have the interview on tape (which I will post one day if I ever figure out how to transfer mini-tape technology to computer)
The result was...well at the time I read it as shock and amazement that I had asked such a HARD HITTING question. But on re-listening to the tape it's clear that they are laughing at me, for quite a while. I actually remember one of them got up and was jumping around, like his laughter had possessed his body and he had to stand up and convulse to let it out...then they said "I don't think we're gonna answer that one...let's just say it's Big Red"
Which meant Suge Knight. We were hysterical on the walk home. We thought that we had gotten them to give up a clue that would crack open the Tupac mystery and have our names go down in history as the two GUMSHOES who pulled it off with only a dictation machine and a prayer. Until our triumphant return to our dorm where we realized that even the Asian kids already knew all about Suge Knight.
And all we were left with was our broken dreams, blurry disposable camera shots and permawedgie pants.