Michael Becker / FOXWhen I was first assigned to cover American Idol I groaned. Not that I disliked Idol—far from it, in fact—but going to two live shows and a rehearsal each week? That's a pretty big time commitment. Last night I sat in my seat in the second mezzanine at the Dolby Theater for the show's two-hour series finale and alternated between shrieks of joy (my teenage self would be proud—still got it) and fighting back tears.
Season 11 began shortly after I moved to Los Angeles from the East Coast, and it proved to be the single best way I kept in touch with my family back in Philly. Since I'd cover the show from the audience and they watched live, I'd call them on my way home from the studio. We would discuss our favorite performances and what sounded better in the studio than on TV. We argued about our favorites and who we thought would win. (We all knew Phillip Phillips had it in the bag, though I still have a soft spot for my other fave, Elise Testone.)
One time, my sister's absolute favorite person in the world, Ryan Seacrest—seriously, I think she loves him more than me—was so sick that he needed to sit down in a chair that dutiful PAs brought on stage every time he wasn't on camera. I texted her the entire time because I wanted to know if she could tell anything was amiss—but no, the show went on and viewers at home would only have known he was ill if they were told.
When my sister and later my parents came to visit, I brought them to the show and introduced them to the publicists and fellow reporters with whom I spent so much time. I had a few friends in town when I moved to LA, but no one I saw more regularly than my Idol crew. The community there helped me feel like I had a place in my new home, and my consistent presence and reporting helped me become more confident in my skills as a journalist. (I'd been doing it a few years and had a journalism degree, but nothing helps you grow at your job more than experience.)
Sometimes, I would forget how special American Idol was. Ugh, I had to sit through a live show AGAIN? (Seriously, I have hundreds of tickets from American Idol live shows just sitting in a box in my apartment.) Then I'd chat with the person next to me, often someone who'd flown across the country and couldn't believe the judges were there, sitting in front of them, in person, and I'd remember how special it was and how I shouldn't take my weird work life for granted.
So last night, when I watched the lights dim for the final time—after two hours of basically every single important Idol figure gathering to celebrate the end of such a huge phenomenon—my sister sitting next to me (I get so many sister points for getting her a ticket, by the way), it felt like I was closing a chapter in my own life.
I've now lived on the West Coast for almost five years. I have held several jobs since the first one that gave me such a fateful assignment, and naturally I covered Idol to various degrees at all of them. This was my fifth Idol finale, and it feels strange that it's the last.
This show that helped connect my personal and professional lives is over, and I'm grateful. Sad, of course, to see it end (for now, dun dun dun), but so happy it was able to hold such a special place in my life.