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In the running

A Phoenix writer auditions for reality TV’s latest entry

THE SCENE OUTSIDE the Rack on a recent Saturday was nothing new. Men’s muscles exploded out of tight black V-neck shirts. Women had big hair, little shirts, and thorough makeup coverage. All were preening, eyeing each other, and self-consciously shuffling from foot to foot.

But the crew, which gathered at 10:45 a.m., was competing not for a coveted spot at the bar — or the attention of the hottie in the corner — but for a chance to be on ABC’s upcoming reality show The Runner.

You may have heard of it; this is the one being produced by local faves Matt Damon and Ben Affleck. It’s been described as a cops-and-robbers chase show, with one person (the Runner) trying to avoid capture by the others (the Agents), who get help in determining the Runner’s location from folks at home on the Internet. Somewhere in there is a $1 million prize. Or something like that; at the Rack’s casting call, no one seemed to know what the story was — and the honchos weren’t really talking. But that didn’t prevent wanna-be stars from showing up: 15 minutes before the seven-hour open casting call even began, 50 or so people were already lined up outside.

Partly out of curiosity about the casting process, and partly just to see if I could make the cut, I threw myself into the reality-TV raffle. Here’s what happened.

10:50 a.m. A stick-thin, authoritative woman with a clipboard is mobbed by the assembled hopefuls. I go over to check out what’s going on. She’s handing out applications with numbers on them. I am BOS-19.

10:55 a.m. I stumble through the questions: 1) What is your personal motto? 2) Have you ever told a lie you are proud of? Why? 3) Tell us an embarrassing story about yourself. 4) What interests you most about the possibility of being a Runner/Agent (circle one)? I peek at the application of a woman with dyed maroon hair and heavy makeup. Her motto is " Nothing is out of reach. " I can’t top that.

11:15 a.m. Numbers 17 to 24 are summoned inside. We plop down at tables. Then we wait — and wait and wait — for the next set of instructions from the exasperated and harried casting crew.

A blonde in capri khakis who drove down from Nashua joins one of the muscled men, who sports a head of spiked, bleached-blond hair. " Soooo, " she drawls, " what’s your embarrassing story? "

At another table, a man wearing a sheer silkscreen spandex tank that reveals Popeye arms is talking with a woman in white tennies and short-shorts, who announces that she doesn’t know how she’ll duck out of her teaching schedule if she gets picked. (The show requires a minimum commitment of six weeks.) " You just quit, " Popeye barks. " I’d say, I’m gonna be on TV, man. I quit. " He pauses, then launches back in with a better idea. " Just tell them you’re pregnant, and stuff a pillow in there. "

Noon. The ice-queen casting woman instructs us to line up against a wall, and a few seconds later, I am herded with seven others to a long table. A casting guy sporting short spiked hair and a tight black T-shirt sits at the head. He grins at us as we shuffle into our spots. Some of the people joining me: " Melanie, " a Betty Boop–like 22-year-old Suffolk University student and public-relations intern for some Boston Harbor boat; " Tina, " a slightly chunky aspiring actress who has a glass of wine with her; and " Mark, " Tina’s boyfriend, a computer guy whose head is dwarfed by the size of his enormous forearms, who brings a Guinness with him to the table.

12:05 p.m. Casting Guy collects our photos and applications. Melanie’s picture, which she slides across the table as she raises her eyebrows suggestively, captures her in a provocative pose: on her knees, on a bed. Casting Guy tries to warm us up by asking us to talk about the differences between New York and Boston. People groan about the crazies in New York " wearing all black and silver, " and how in Boston, " you can just wear flip-flops. " I try desperately to come up with something to add. I fail.

Casting Guy changes the subject to " What makes a modern hero? " Tina and Mark have plenty to contribute: firefighters, teachers, etc. From me: again, nothing. I want to chime in with something controversial, like " I don’t have any heroes " or " Bill Clinton, " but I can’t get a word in edgewise.

Casting Guy seems bored. He says " Beautiful, beautiful, " and changes the subject again, looking at our applications and calling on us one by one. He asks Mark why he wants to be an Agent. " I’m very passionate about completing challenges, " Mark responds. " Whether it’s working, volleyball, working out ... I need to succeed and if given the chance, I will succeed. "

I am frightened into silence. Casting Guy peers at my application and appears bemused by my personal motto, which I wrote to produce exactly that effect. " Nina ... you put as your personal motto, ‘Take charge!’ Why? " I bumble on about how I am curious and use resources when I don’t know the answers to things, and that I could make a good go-getter Agent. As I hear the words come out of my mouth, I cringe.

12:20 p.m. Casting Guy takes one last look at our applications to make sure they’re " readable. " He tells us that if we are picked for the next round of interviews, we will be notified within 24 hours.

24 hours later. No word from Casting Guy. I am officially a Runner reject. Thank God.

— NW