Now if there's anything I've noticed about recent seasons of The Real World, it's that they tend to alternate between good and bad. I don't know why this is, but after the golden run of Seattle, Hawaii, and New Orleans, things just got bumpy. There was Back To New York (bad) followed by Chicago (good -- one of my favorite seasons). We then ventured into Vegas, but that season sort of exists as its own, weird installment. You kind of hated it and loved it simultaneously. Then we had Paris (terrible) followed by San Diego (good), and finally -- make sure the kids are out of earshot lest I resurrect any tortured memories -- Philadelphia (dreadful). Again, not sure what really makes us love or hate certain seasons (and by all means, feel free to discuss your faves in the comment section), but I imagine it usually comes down to the cast. After all, it's not like CT's fight in Paris was any worse than Brad's fight in San Diego. We just liked Brad a whole lot more. I guess this is my long winded way of saying that based on the pre-existing pattern and the colorful characters in this first installment, we're in for a good season.

Last night's premiere episode began in Boston where we met Danny, a handsome young lad who spends his days building houses with his pop. I tend to be wary of the Boston reality stars. After all, the city has spawned the likes of CT and Rob Mariano (a.k.a. Boston Rob). Plus, a lot of my friends from Boston can get pretty annoying, but that's something entirely different. Anyway, we watched as Danny hugged his dad and grandma goodbye (he doesn't get along with his mom), and as he trudged through the snow to his cab, just about the only thing missing was a sorrowful harmonica bidding him adieu. Clearly, this is going to be Danny's season.

We then cut to the razzle dazzle opening credits which never cease to entertain. Unlike last season's hip opener (one of the best parts of each episode, if you ask me), we got back to the basics: pretty people cavorting around a city like it was their playpen. At the end, we saw a guy brand "The Real World: Austin" onto a guitar, which was a cool homage to the city's musical scene, but seriously, who brands guitars? Now, if it were some cow/guitar hybrid, that would be something else. In fact, I'd say such a beast would deserve its own Discovery Network show, but now I'm just babbling about something that makes little - nay - no sense at all.

After the credits ended, we returned to Danny who arrived in Texas wide-eyed and American Eagled out. He explained that he figured people would be riding around on horses and wearing huge hats. Yes, because even though automobiles have been a fixture for the past hundred years, Texas is clearly still stuck in 1874. Danny then added, "Shucks. I grew out a handlebar mustache and everything."

As he hopped in a cab to find his roomies, we then moved on to the next roommate. Uh oh. This one's gonna be a problem: leopard-print purse, hot pink shirt, double chin. A lethal combo if I ever saw one. Yes, this was Rachel, an army veteran who looked strikingly like Brittany Murphy during her Clueless days. Based on her annoying audition tape (check out the Real World: Austin casting special if it's still running), I thought Rachel would probably be the worst of the bunch, but I'll just let her off easy now and say that by the end of the hour, I thought she seemed all right. Of course, that doesn't mean she's immune from scrutiny, but I'll just move on for now.

Anyway, while Rachel sat quietly on a park bench, she was approached by Nehemiah, a nineteen year old college grad who either was really proud of his heritage or just had the best Ethiopian trip EVER. That's right, he busted onto the scene with a shirt proudly displaying "Ethiopia" and a necklace in the shape of the country. He might as well have worn a hat saying "By the way, I'm black." Not that there's anything wrong with championing your roots, but it's just odd to see such a display right off the bat. In past seasons, minorities have come on The Real World lamenting the fact that they're seen as just "the black guy" or "the gay guy." So I guess it's peculiar to see someone happily embracing one of those pre-defined roles. Why do I feel like I'm being racist? Nevertheless, to Nehemiah's credit, he so far hasn't proven himself to be "the angry black male" which is good because I think we're still reeling from Karamo's fabulous fulfillment of that stereotype. Man, I can already hear him yelling at me through the computer.

Posted by B-side on June 22, 2005 4:11 AM