Suddenly, I was confronted by the first dilemma of pre-millionairedom. I am a professor at NYU and I had a class at 6:30 downtown. The phone number I'd given the show was a home phone (no cell or beeper numbers were allowed).

What should I do? Tell NYU I was sick? Tell them I want to be a millionaire? Or forget it -- maybe I hadn't answered the questions right, maybe I hadn't answered them fast enough? Maybe, deep down, I didn't really wantto be a millionaire?

Then a water main broke and stopped all subway service downtown. God works in mysterious ways in New York City -- that or He watches the show, too.

Now there was nothing left to do but wait. Would the Regis voice call again?

At 6:48 the phone rang.

It was a friend asking to borrow my drill.

At 6:53 the phone rang again.

"Hi, this is Lisa from 'Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.' Is Steven Smith there?"

"Is this good news?"

After motoring through the verbal fine print, she finally murmured, "Congratulations! You've won a spot in the Friday, November 12th taping, to air on Saturday, November 13th."

Yahoo!

She asked if she could arrange my flight plans, I told her that I lived 30 city blocks from the studio. So they would send a limo for me, she said. Then she asked who my companion would be. I picked my mother, who lives on Long Island. A limo would be sent for her, too. We both would be put up at the Empire Hotel on 67th Street -- just blocks from my apartment.

I was then to make a list of five friends to call in case I chose to exercise my "Phone-a-friend lifeline" privileges. For the untutored, three "lifelines" are allowed on your way up the ladder. AT&T has set up a system that allows you to call friends for help in tricky categories. For sports, I chose my friend who took me to the second to last Mets game this season, and for cooking I chose my Italian aunt, who is the only one in the family who can cook. For variety I picked my Uncle Hank, who was once nominated for a Nobel Science Prize in Marine Pharmacology; a colleague at NYU who has read all the classics; and a Broadway director who writes crossword puzzles for Harper's magazine.

My brain trust is in place. My Social Security card and 14 other documents containing the same information are packed and ready to go -- lack of I.D. was not going to stop me now! After learning that shorts and jeans are not allowed on the show, I've decided on Armani. When I meet Reege, I want to look like a million bucks.

I am writing this on Thursday night. At this moment, I am waiting for the limo to pick me up and deliver me several city blocks to the hotel. Upon arrival, I will return home to walk my dog, after which I will rejoin my mother at the hotel. We will be sequestered there from 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. the next day.

The clock is ticking. My ordering skills will be pitted against those of 10 of the finest ordering minds in America. We all have our eyes on the prize: the chance to go face to face with Regis Philbin for a million bucks.

It feels like "The 25,000 Pyramid" on steroids.

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