ONE WOULD THINK THAT AFTER SUBJECTING US TO INVASIVE MEDICAL PROCEDURES, MTV MIGHT HAVE LET us move inside and out of the rain. No such luck. We still have one more hour on the sidewalk. Now, however, we are out on Broadway beneath the windows of the MTV studios, and in an effort to suck every last drop of freed publicity out of our suffering, we are offered "Wannabee a VJ" signs to carry while we wait. We decline the honor, but those around us embrace their servitude with glee.

From across the street, a camera crew approaches the line. It's a reporter from the local Fox affiliate, the lowest rated newscast in the Tri-State area. He's looking for some losers to profile in the requisite 6:22 human interest segment. He finds Stiles.

Stiles has carefully sculpted platinum blond hair. He's also ripped. Really, really, ripped. This guy's chest is broader than my current seed of a thesis topic, and he's just itching to bare all. He steps up to the mike.

"So, why do you want to be a VJ?" inquires the intrepid reporter.

"Now MTV is great. They know what's up. But you know what? They need a new style. And that's me," he roars, "cause I'm Stiles!" At this point Stiles tears off his shirt revealing body paint which reads, "MTV Styles!" The reporter chuckles and moves on. Unfortunately for Stiles, the public spirit that embraced Hulkamania is no more.

Slowly but surely, the entrance to the Viacom building draws closer and closer. Ahead of us in line, Jacqueline decides that it is time to change into her performance gear. She tears off her jeans and paints on a pair of black pedal pushers. She kicks off her sneakers and straps on a pair of platform, open-toed shoes. She peels off her sweatshirt and buttons on a white, scoop-neck blouse. Jacqueline's looking hot. She's also shuddering from hypothermia.

Just as her cleavage is starting to turn eggplant-purple from the cold, Jacqueline is invited inside. We steadily inch forward. Our mission is almost complete.