I don't know about you, but every time I hail a cab, I hope and pray and cross all fingers and toes, that I'll be lucky enough to hail cute Ben Bailey and his disco-lit Cab o' Cash.
See, I'm not much of a game show fan, but I love me some Cash Cab. And yes, like some kind of demented granny, I yell out the answers at my TV. I inevitably screw up the geography and ancient history questions, but I do pretty well with just about every other topic. I've racked up $700 on some imaginary rides. After calculating my illusory winnings, I imagine how I'd spend that money. I have a boyfriend, but I know he wouldn't mind if I took Ben Bailey out for a cocktail or three. I'd definitely put some towards a new computer as this one is on its last legs. Anyway, as you can see, Cash Cab isn't just a show for me. It's more like a life goal.
So imagine my shock, horror and devastation when last night I find out that Cash Cab is actually fake! I don't want to get the breaker of the news in any trouble in case he signed some sort of confidentiality agreement, so I won't mention names, but it turns out this guy was cast as a contestant! And it wasn't even tryouts like Jeopardy! This guy had worked on some other TV show and the casting agents thought he'd be good and so he got the gig. They don't just randomly pick up people on the street. Sigh. Oh, and that wad of cash Ben forks over at the end—nuh uh. You do win, but they send you a check weeks later.
Hours later and I'm still reeling from the news. It's going to take a while to fully process this information. I guess I should've figured that anyone who listed their #1 do-not-miss spot in New York City as "The Comedy Cellar" on MacDougal St. was up to no good.
(Edited for clarity's sake.)