There is nothing I won’t do for the Indian press and that was really proven true this last Saturday. I love India. If I weren’t blonde and Jewish and middle age I could be on the Incredible India commercial. And the Indian press has been amazing to me over the years. So whenever anyone from the Indian press calls and wants anything I am there.


May 18, 2010by tracey Comments

There is nothing I won’t do for the Indian press and that was really proven true this last Saturday.

I love India. If I weren’t blonde and Jewish and middle age I could be on the Incredible India commercial.

And the Indian press has been amazing to me over the years.  So whenever anyone from the Indian press calls and wants anything I am there.

There this last Saturday meant Flushing, Queens  at nine-forty five am. That was fine. I didn’t mind at all. I would have rather been in the gym getting my butt beaten by Bergen, but it’s the Indian press so butt be damned, we went to Queens. My side kick in the Lucky Ducks press brigade was not too thrilled to be up and out at that hour, but our friend Sara Mohazabbi was staying the night and for some reason Sara can get Taylor to do things faster than anyone I know. She had her make-up on her, dress picked out and we were out the door at nine, as our orders were, be there at “ nine-forty five sharp.”

The problem started with the fact I really didn’t know where there was.  I had some directions printed up off Facebook by Allsion.

I had no idea where we were going, who we were actually being interviewed by and for what show or company the interview would be air. That is really my fault as I did not write down the name of the woman I had been corresponding with and I had had so much going on I really didn’t pay much attention; so I didn’t write down the name of the show when it was first proposed to me. This is unlike me – and will not happen again.

So we took off with an address but no phone number. Lesson number one, don’t head off to Queens to be interviewed without at least a phone number.
We arrived in Flushing at nine forty – on time.   There was a nice big building.  Flushing is cool, we were in the Chinese section though there were some burkah babes pushing strollers, I do love New York.

We went up to the floor; looked good it was Time Warner Cable.  I went to check in with the guard and I had sort a version of the woman’s name I had forgotten to write down who was interwing us.

I got there and did what I always do and said, Tracey Jackson and Taylor Templeton here to be interviewed and then I screwed up the name;  it must have been close enough as he responded “You’re not on the list and the studio isn’t booked.”

“OK _ well I have strict instructions to be here at this place on his day at this time.”
“Well, no one has booked a studio, the person you are meeting isn’t here”

The guard went back to watching cartoons on the giant screen.

It was then exactly nine-forty five.

I had no one to call.
At nine-fifty I went back up to him and asked are you sure no studio is booked and the woman I am meeting isn’t here?

He said “No” and went back to the cartoon network.

Clearly, I had made a mistake, but I had the paper in front of me. She had confirmed the night before.

At nine fifty-five I stood up and asked him the same question.
Five minutes is clearly my patience cut off point.

He then told me “No and I was pushy.”

I told him number one if he thought this was me being pushy he didn’t know what pushy was and further more, pushy is what gets you ahead in this world.

He said he thought patience was what got you ahead.

I did not want to debate this one.

Sara, was more than willing to, in fact she was clearly dying to.  She popped up and said-

“Patience gets you the weekend guard job at Time Warner in Queens watching the cartoon network. OK – a little harsh – though I wasn’t going to argue it. I was glad she said it and I didn’t as Taylor would have told me I was rude. Sara she thinks is funny when she does this stuff. That is the life of a mom.

By ten no one had shown up and one had even appeared except the guard.

At the risk of being called pushy – I asked him what the show was.

“There is no show.”

Comforting – no number – no show – no people- no studio booked.

I so should have checked the details on this before I came out here.  But we were there, we were dressed.  Despite the fact the cartoon loving, patience pushing guard insisted I did not belong there – we would stick it out, until ten fifteen.

At five after ten a gentleman appeared who looked like he might know more. At that point more would be hello.

I  told him, we’re booked to do this show, I don’t know what it is, we’re being interviewed by a woman whose name is a version of something I garbled and we were told to be here at nine forty five and it’s five after ten and no one knows anything.

He responded with the woman’s correct name.  Nivedita Chandrappa – one for the team.

But, she had not booked a studio and she was not there.  Back to zero. But we could come in and have coffee.  Nice offer. Love coffee but at that moment I needed more.

I must say Taylor was being very chill, as she would say, despite the fact she had been dragged here at for her was  the crack of dawn to be stuck in front of one more camera and asked what it was like being taken to India by me and was she still spoiled and how much did I really spend on handbags.

At that moment an attractive Indian woman arrived.

Nivedita Chadrappa.

OK- so I was in the right place at the right time and  I now had the right name.

She talked to the guy who said no studio had been booked and after a few back and forths apparently one had, or she convinced him it had, or she did it on the spot.  But whatever she said it worked as we were  suddenly in  a studio,  miced up, and in chairs.  And a camera was there.

We spent twenty minutes talking to her about Ducks.  I was convinced the entire time my bra strap was showing and trying to figure out how to subtly get it back in.

Taylor kicked ass and when the inevitable purse question was asked – I fumbled and she saved me.

Nivedita was very nice and the whole thing was perfectly pleasant.

As we were leaving I asked when the show would air and what is was.

She did give me a name, but I don’t think I heard it right and told me I wouldn’t be able to watch it as it was on local Queens Television. I’m still not sure what that means.

But like the rest of the experience I didn’t push much (despite what the guard my think) and said OK.  Well, maybe you can send me a link.

She said she would.

If any of you see an interview with a nice looking middle age Indian woman in which Taylor is wearing purple, I’m wearing red and constantly glancing at my shoulder, please let me know.

This is amazing I just got a nice email from her, thanking us for coming out and then she said I hear you don’t know about our show, I did Tweet something from there about not knowing what I was doing and where I was.  She sent me the link.

It’s called Asian Indian Immigrant Experience.

I told you the Indian press is nice to me. We’re  not Aisan. We’re not Indian. We’re  not  immigrants. But experiences – those we  have.

I am supposed to be here.
I don' t remember who I was calling, but I was trying to figure it out.
I was being patient.
She was being chirpy. Sara was lecturing the guard.
We're so good at this now we can interview each other. At what point did you decide to take me to India?
Tell me the truth what did it feel like when I left you there?
Alright, once and for all do you really own a four hundred thousand dollar handbag???????? This whole handbag thing has gotten so blown out of proportion.
Then the real interview began.
Taylor bailing me out of the handbag question. "She doesn't even own a handbag, she wears fanny packs."