Perhaps it was fate. Around 8 AM on a Wednesday, as I’m driving down Bardstown Road in Louisville, I saw cops at the intersection with Beuchel Bank Road. There must have been an accident, I thought. I got about half way down when my phone rang. I had to turn around because my daughter was having issues about going to school. I drove back again, this time getting caught in the same “accident”.
Later that day my wife sent me a link to a website: eliteextremedream.com. Suddenly, I realized that what I got caught up in was not an accident, but rather the very first part of the taping of an episode of Extreme Makeover Home Edition. I was driving by either during or shortly after the family first was greeted by Ty Pennington and crew. Being big fans of the show, my wife and I decided to take advantage of the opportunity to volunteer. Good thing we got a link to the website early, because by the end of the day, once word had spread around Louisville, there were no more volunteer slots open. My wife and I volunteered for Saturday.
Saturday arrived and my wife and I used our GPS to find the entry point for the volunteer parking lot, which was at General Electric, not far from the home. We parked the car and started walking toward the volunteer area. There were dozens of vans, pickups, and large trucks emblazoned with logos from businesses familiar to all in Louisville in the parking lot and in a staging area where the volunteer tent was. There also were dozens of people milling about in the familiar Extreme Makeover blue shirts. We went to the volunteer tent and gave one of the women our names. She couldn’t find us on the list. Apparently the heavy demands on the website had partially crashed the volunteer list. Still, she let us proceed, handing us liability waivers that were slightly shorter than the 2007 tax code. I made a stab at reading it, realized that I was no lawyer, and signed it anyway. I think I committed to giving a kidney sometime in 2009.
We were told to sit in a tent and wait. The tent was full of donated food, including donuts, water, and coffee. We sat, and waited. And waited. It was clear that priority was being given to volunteers with actual construction talent. Being the detective that I am, I deduced this by seeing that everyone who was going over to the site had hammers, tool belts, and various roughed up gadgets hanging off their belts. And tattoos. Lots of tattoos. By contrast, our tent was full of people who seemed better suited to volunteer for a food drive, with lots of soft looking people (myself included) who looked like they couldn’t drive a nail if it was a passenger in their car. My favorite was a woman who was milling around the volunteer area patiently in uncomfortable shoes and enough makeup to make Mary Kay jealous.
One group of lucky volunteers got called from our tent to go to the site. We were excited because we knew that we’d be next. What would we do? Would we be driving nails with Ty? Would we be called upon to help one of the designers paint something cool? We waited. And waited. And waited.
Then we got the call. A guy in a hard hat with a black Extreme Makeover hat and a logo for the builder, Elite Homes asked us where we were from. He took us back to the volunteer tent where the woman expertly guessed our sizes (unfortunately). We didn’t get a hardhat. Maybe we’d get that at the site. The man told us he “had one of the cushiest jobs of the day.” And he walked us beyond the volunteer tent back toward the parking lot. He pointed to two mismatched chairs sitting near the volunteer tent. Our job would be to make sure that only people who belonged in the area would be pulling their cars and trucks into the staging area. We were a bit sad, knowing we weren’t going to help with the house, but excited that at least we’d get a T-shirt and a glimpse into the action.
My wife and I felt pretty clueless as we stopped every car turning in. Some were easy. They were people who were volunteering or wanted to volunteer. We directed them to the GE parking lot. Others were not so simple. Big trucks could belong there, or they could be volunteers. Cars full of people weren’t okay… unless they were wearing Elite Homes jackets. We managed to anger a few people as we worked out who we could and couldn’t let in. Eventually we fell into a rhythm. Most of our day consisted of keeping rubberneckers out of the staging area, and directing people to the volunteer booth. We also got to talk to one highly surprised individual who spoke very little English and was trying to visit a friend who actually lived down the road that was closed for the production of the show. I had to use the map feature on my cell phone to try and talk him back to where he needed to be and advised him he needed to be prepared to justify why he was there. I’m still not sure he knew what was going on around him.
It was fascinating to see this multi-million dollar ballet being orchestrated. While we were there, we got to see trucks full of gravel, bricks, and plumbing equipment assemble, and pull out one by one. We even got to see the gravel return. Because the signals at the sight were getting crossed, trucks were being sent before they were actually needed. We got to see a little dispute between a security guy and the Elite guy that had recruited us. It resulted in our Elite guy disappearing. Concerned, we asked the security guy what was going on. He seemed suprised at what we were doing, and told us he didn’t realize we were keeping traffic away from the staging area. He assumed we were waiting for someone to pick us up.
We talked to him for quite awhile and learned he was actually with the show, not local security. He travelled with them to do security and had so far attended seven shows. He said that he tended to pick volunteers who were alone to go to the site because people who volunteered in groups tended to be there more to sightsee than to actually help out. He brought us orange hard hats and those little light up sticks that you use to direct traffic.
As people walked away from the volunteer area, we got to hear bits and pieces. An employee of Danhauer Plumbing told us that the Hughes family’s basement was a mess, with a major water problem that required Patrick John Hughes to clean it up everytime his wife wanted to wash clothes. Another crane operator walked up to us with a distant look in his face. When we told him what we were doing and that we wished we could have gone to the site, he said, “want to trade with me?” Apparently he’d been working for hours and was worn out. We asked him about volunteers at the site, and he told us that a lot of the non-skilled volunteers there were getting in the way, not realizing the danger some of the heavy equipment around them presented.
We also got to briefly meet four people in business suits who had shown up from White Castle to make food for the crews of volunteers. The smell of sliders would haunt us there and on our visits to the construction site.
Eventually we finished our shift and went home to pick up our daughter. Our plan was to return with her later that night to see the house.
Later that night we hopped on a bus at the old Showcase Cinemas on Bardstown Road. It was a bittersweet moment as my wife and I stood waiting for a bus at the site of our first date. It was eerie to see the parking lot full of cars, as though it was Friday night and the latest Star Wars movie was playing. The bus came and we went to the site (but not without a few “Bus driver…. move that bus!” jokes). The bus let us out in front of a neighbor’s front yard, which was being used as a spectator area.
The house was, in a word, amazing. In a few short days they had the house framed and most of the roof on. The bricks we’d seen earlier in the day were almost in place on most of the house. The entire lot of the Hughes home was a swarm of blue t-shirts, as professionals and volunteers alike built, cleaned, and attended to the house. Rocky and Joe Pusateri, the builders who oversaw the construction of the house, were always visible, giving the crew pep talks, and even taking the time to talk to the crowd about how construction was moving forward.
The day they “welcomed home” the Hughes family, I decided to stake out my place early. Armed with a sandwich, a hat, and a handmade poster that said Louisville — Always the Best Community, I arrived at the homesite and stood about 5 rows back from the fence. A sizable crowd was already there. We were a good distance away from the house, standing on woodchips that had spread on muddy ground in front of the house. Standing there was a bit like standing on very slow moving quicksand, and my new shoes (I went for comfort over keeping them clean) kept getting sucked down a bit. As the crowd grew, security decided to move the barricades closer to the house. This caused a near riot as people who had staked out a place on the side of the house along the barricade saw people who got there much later move in front of them. The movement of the barricades allowed us to stand on the front yard of the house, much closer than I’ve seen any crowds get to the house in previous episodes. My wife (who joined me an hour or two later) and I were standing on the newly laid sod, which was not an improvement, as it seemed to be even more unstable than the mud behind us.
The reveal was not scheduled until 2 PM, so there were a lot of hours to fill. Thankfully, the producers were more than willing to keep us occupied. It might surprise viewers of the show to find out that much of what you see is staged to provide the familiar shots you see each week. For instance, the overhead crane shots of the crowd and the crowd chanting “MOVE THAT BUS” were all shot hours before the family arrived. The show took several sweeping passes of the crowd with the crane as we cheered and chanted. Because the show only gets one chance to get the critical shot, the reaction of the family, it can’t have dozens of camera people running around trying to get reaction shots of the crowd while the family waits to see the house.
As we faked our cheers and chants, the man with the bullhorn who was giving us orders told us to save our energy. He was right. Chanting “move that bus” for 20 or 30 minutes can wear a guy out. Ty Pennington came out for a spell and did a little faking of his own. The crew did a test run of pulling the limo into the driveway and having Ty open it. This shot was both a practice run and would give them coverage if necessary for the actual arrival of the family. Ty didn’t do much to play to the crowd, and appeared to be more intent on keeping his distance from them than the others. He looked very tired, perhaps a side effect of flying around the country to film two or three episodes at the same time.
Before the family arrived, we got to see the entire cast. Louisville got most of the popular male crew members. Eduardo Xol, Paul DiMeo, Michael Moloney, and Ed Sanders were all there, as well as newcomer Didiayer Snyder. With the exception of Didiayer and Michael, who were both peppy and full of energy, they all looked a bit tired and possibly even a bit sad.
Unfortunately, a rain storm and a bit of finishing work on the house delayed the reveal another two hours. As the crowd pushed in, our world became more cramped. I realized that I kept tramping down the same 2 x 2 piece of ground, and moving to keep from cramping was becoming like a game of twister. I also noticed that I’d moved a good 10 or 12 feet from my original position without ever realizing it. People who hadn’t been anywhere near us started playing the “I’m trying to find a friend” game, and cut in front of us, which resulted in some angry shouting from my wife and I and others.
Finally, the time for the reveal was upon us. The bus was moved into place, and the family’s limo pulled up. The Hughes family got out of the limo, Patrick’s dad hoisted him into his wheelchair, and Ty began to talk to the family. He appeared to be explaining how the reveal would work. Once again the show did a bit of staging. If you’ve watched the show, you know that they show the family saying “MOVE THAT BUS” and then cut to a shot from the other side of the bus when it pulls away to reveal the family. The show actually stages the “MOVE THAT BUS” shot from the front and then moves its cameras to the other side of the bus to get the reaction after the family says “MOVE THAT BUS” for the final (and real) time. The actual reveal was incredible. As the crew ran around the bus making sure everything was set to go, the excitement level was through the roof. A crew member leaped up to signal the bus driver, the family yelled the signature line, and the bus pulled away to show the family their first glimpse at their new home to the deafening roar of the people behind them. When the builders came out and Patrick was presented with a scale model of the house so he could “see” it with his hands, I started to tear up. The family talked to the builders and Ty for a long period of time and milled about while the show prepared for them to see the inside. Here again, the illusion of TV gave way to the reality that the show needed good footage of the family, as they were delayed for quite a long time while the show shot them walking up the driveway and toward their front door. Finally they were given the go ahead to go inside and the crowd made its way down the road to take the bus back to our cars.
In the end, I think we all left a bit sad. Thousands of man hours and dollars, and a ton of community goodwill led to a huge community event that ended with a wimper as the family disappeared into their new house. We’ll get one more chance to relive the event on February 17, 2007 when ABC airs a two hour special Extreme Makeover. Watch for me. I’ll be the guy in the blue shirt.
