Hey, my name is Justin. I’m 22, from Millington, Tennessee and I attended the University of Memphis.
"Hey, man. Nice to meet you." Justin enthusiastically strutted down the terminal escaping the droning sound of airplane. He had just arrived on Flight 384 from Memphis and embarking on what could possibly turn into the most intriguing journey of his lifetime. He didn’t know where it would lead him, but he was fully aware that it was starting at Gate A12 of Dulles International Airport.
His assigned cameraman, Jackson, smiled politely while hoisting his bulky camera over his left shoulder. "Hey, Justin. Could you do me a favor and walk back down again so I can catch it."
"Sure."
"And don’t look at the camera."
Decked out in his vintage plaid shirt and baggy, holey jeans, and a grin as wide as Tennessee, he gladly obliged and trekked back to the plane’s entrance to restart his excursion. The way he saw it, people rarely get second chances at first impressions, so he must have been a lucky one.
He and Jackson paraded down the airport corridor towards the Baggage Claim where Justin had already been instructed to meet with his first new roommate. He was nervous. He was excited. He was curious. He knew nothing outside of his Millington, TN haven. He knew to expect the unexpected. What he didn’t know what how the hell he was supposed to do that.
What’s up. I’m Adam from Topeka, Kansas. I’m 23 and a motherfuckin’ mechanic, baby!
Adam sat his supersized backpack on the floor, just in front of his feet and stood contently at Baggage Carousel #2 in his Kansas sweatshirt. With his own camera man, he awaited the arrival of his fellow unwitting cast member.
He turned and spotted the approach of a camera, accompanied by a tall, somewhat flustered guy with light brown hair and happy blue eyes. Adam greeted who he assumed to be his new roommate, jovially across the large space between them. "What up!"
Justin loved the way Adam’s contentment echoed through the airport. Still smiling, he reciprocated his cheerfulness and offered him the handshake/hug combination while laughing. "Nice to meet you, man. I’m Justin." He already knew that he and this guy would get along famously.
"Adam." He pulled out of their embrace and gave Justin a friendly pat on the back. "Man, I was hoping to get picked up by one of the hot chicks in the house."
"Well hey, now you’ve gotten a chance to check out your competition," he replied, dropping his heavy backpack. He stared at the moving carousel absently, inwardly glad that his first meeting was going smoothly.
"I’m not even trying to compete with you, bro."
"No, I’m taken anyway. The hot chicks are all yours."
"Fuck that," Adam laughed. "This is the beginning of the fuckin’ end for you."
Justin chuckled back, knowing that they were in for something crazy. "You probably speak the truth."
"No doubt. We’re in for four months of chaos, dog." Adam was all smiles, and, needless to say, excited about the possibilities. "Let’s get this party started, man." Adam held out his right hand again, waiting for the dap – to him, it always mean that shit was cool and the party could continue.
Justin retrieved his bag from the floor and finished their second handshake of the past five minutes. "Let’s fuckin’ do it."
>>>>>>>>>>
Hey y’all. My name is Usher, I’m 24 and I’m a bartender-slash-dancer from Las Vegas.
Usher, dressed to the nines in his version of casual – leather pants and a cashmere sweater – trekked down the cold Washington, DC sidewalk, which was blanketed in white snow, advancing towards the famed Washington Monument. He was sure that he was scheduled to meet his cast-mate on the corner of Ohio Avenue, but he only spotted one person standing at the corner and there was no way that this little red-head chick could be his roommate. Could she?
Hi! I’m Lindsay. I’m 18 and from Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.
The buxom redhead, who indeed, appeared very young, took notice of the short, handsome black guy walking in circles with a camera following lackadaisically behind him. She smiled her 18-year-old smile and meekly asked, "Hey, are you from Real World?"
He turned back to her, relaying a slight disbelief. "You’re not my roommate are you?"
His high-pitched voice made her want to laugh, but the vast amount of apprehensiveness that was mounting with every second stopped that urge. "Yeah."
Usher could sense her uneasiness and smiled warmly. "Girl, calm down. I won’t bite. I just didn’t expect you to be so young!" He waved glibly and walked up to her. "Gimme a hug!"
"Okay," she smiled again, brushing her long hair behind her left ear.
"I’m Usher."
"What?"
"My name. I’m Usher."
"Oh…"
"This is usually the point where you tell me your name," he coerced, playfully.
"Oh! I’m sorry. I must be camera-shy or something."
"Don’t even worry about it, baby. The camera isn’t there."
"Okay."
"And then stop saying, ‘Okay,’" he laughed.
"Okay." She was officially about to shit herself. "Sorry!"
Usher grinned again, hoping that his soft dimples and impeccable pearly whites would put her at ease. He grabbed her hand and her bag and walked her down the street with him. "Calm down. Take a deep breath with me."
She inhaled lightly and exhaled slowly. "Okay."
"So maybe Name was too hard. How old are you, baby?"
"Eighteen," she beamed. "And my name is Lindsay."
"See? That wasn’t too bad, was it?"
"No, I guess not."
"Like I said, the camera isn’t there. Just me and you." He gave her a light side-hug as they continued down the sidewalk. "It’s all good."
She finally grinned in confidence, deciding that she liked Usher. "It’s all good."
>>>>>>>>>>
Hello, MTV. My name is Christina. I’m a 23-year-old graduate of Northwestern University. I was born and raised in Chicago, Illinois and I now work as a project coordinator for the Women First Center on the southside.
Christina, in her Ugg boots and bohemian-style, long, flowing skirt, took hold of her rosary in faith, took the pull-out handle of her roll-along backpack and heaved it onto the entrance of the city-bus that was supposed to take her to her final destination. She’d only just arrived in the city minutes before, but was already finding frustration in the day’s happenings.
Before agreeing to the show, she specifically requested that she only be followed by a female camera-woman, only to arrive and be greeted by Hal – the burliest, manliest guy anyone could find. See, MTV knows – it’s the little things that make good television great. Christina’s snit was sure to snowball into something bigger by the time she even met the rest of her housemates.
>>>>>>>>>>
Hi. My name is Britney and I’m from New York City. I’m 21 years old and a senior at Columbia.
The very second that Britney stepped off of the train and into Union Station, she’d been able to bear nothing but that ecstatic, immaculate smile. She stuffed her black Coach purse into her black Coach duffel bag and strutted through the passageway of the station to where she was to meet her new roommate at the entrance.
Before she knew it, she was joined by the unmistakable presence of her assigned camera and it’s owner, Jocelyn. Together, they entered the biting cold of mid-January – a cold that Britney was very used to – and searched for whoever she was looking for.
Yo! What is up! I’m Alicia from ATL, Georgia. I’m 22, I go to Clark Atlanta University, and I’m on fire!
Her curves, covered only by skintight dark denim, could’ve been spotted from a mile away. And although she was light enough to be white, the texture of her long black hair and the span of her hips said otherwise. She leaned against one of the large columns of Union Station, hugging herself inside of her short, black leather jacket. Her stance already told Britney that this girl was full of attitude.
Skeptically, Britney approached the medium-height frame of the only possible option of people that could be her roommate and heavily tapped her shoulder. "Hi."
Alicia turned abrasively from the harsh touch, ready to pounce, until she noticed the camera behind the blonde in front of her. "Oh, hello."
"I’m Britney," she smiled, offering a petite, gloved hand.
"Alicia." She took her hand and gave it a flaccid shake feigning a genuine grin. "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise, I’m sure."
Alicia internalized the vision in front of her – an ostensibly rich, white girl, perfectly blonde and thin. She was already sure that the two of them wouldn’t be talking much after the first day. She picked up her Nike gym bag from the cold concrete and let her chocolate eyes meet Britney’s matching orbs. "Well it’s cold as shit out here, so how ‘bout we bounce to our new phat ass crib?"
"Sure." Britney pulled a pair of glasses from the bag perched on her shoulder, followed by a sheet of paper and turned around curiosity. "Okay, I think we go this way."
Glad to merely be moving in any step towards getting out of the cold, Alicia followed Britney’s lead to what would soon be their new Georgetown home. The two of them, having made conversation the entire time as to who and what they were, arrived on the street of their new home – Prospect Street – to find an eclectic group of people and cameramen waiting outside a tall white townhouse.
Alicia was the first to greet the collection of Real Worlders. "Hey, party people!"
The three cast members, two girls – a redhead and a Hispanic with black hair, and an attractive black guy, greeted Alicia in the same excited manner. In unison, they answered, "Hey!"
Britney was the next to pipe up. "Hi, guys."
"Please tell us that one of you has the key to the house," Christina, the raven-head, interjected.
Alicia stared at her briefly and then back to Britney. "You ain’t got the key, do you?"
"Is that why we’re standing outside?" Britney inquired.
"Well duh," Christina answered sarcastically.
Usher jumped into the conversation before any of them could turn this cold meeting into an icy one. "So hi," he said, extending his hand to Britney. "I’m Usher."
"I’m sorry?" She was just as confused and taken aback by his effeminate voice as Lindsay had been when he uttered those same words.
"My name is Usher," he laughed.
"Oh! I’m sorry, I’m Britney. Nice to meet you."
"Same here," he smiled, moving over to introduce himself to Alicia.
The introductions continued into the following half hour or so as they stood in the vicinity of the steps to their humble abode, all internally wondering why the hell they were stuck standing outside of this kick-ass house with no indication as to when they’d be able to get in. Maybe this was how all Real Worlds started out and editing just made them believe otherwise. That then arose the question of just how much different this experience was in comparison to what they’ve seen on TV for the past thirteen years. They knew that they’d embarked on something different, but just how different was this about to be?
