About 15 minutes after arriving in Denver for the local Emmy awards, my friend John and I started traipsing around the city.  John’s eagle eye spotted $1 lying on the ground.  “Snag that,” he said.  “That has good luck charm written all over it.”  Now I’d heard the ol’ adage, “find a penny, pick it up … and all the day you’ll have good luck.”  But good fortune apparently costs more these days … what with inflation, high interest rates and our national debt.

“We’re gonna keep this … and it’ll help you win your Emmy,” he said.  He then swiped a magic marker from a bartender and wrote “Emmy Dolla’, Fo’ Yo’ Mama” on the unsuspecting bill.

That poor $1 barely made it to the awards ceremony with us.  We had to snag it back from a befuddled cab driver when we accidentally used it to pay our fare.  And we did the same thing with an impatient waiter.  But the dollar survived.

My patience at the award ceremony, however, did not.

The last time I was in Denver for the Emmys there was fanfare, pomp and circumstance.  We’re talking red carpet and paparazzi.  This year’s affair was woefully underwhelming.  Finger food?  Cash bar?  People wearing jeans?  I thought I was at a tacky wedding reception instead of the National Academy of Television Arts & Sciences.   Mercifully, John didn’t know any better.  He was just impressed with all the shiny gold objects in front of him.

I was hoping my categories were early in the evening … 1) because my tux pants were WAY too tight (which meant I could possibly black out before my acceptance speech) and 2) because you can only eat so much tuna tartar before feeling ill.  No such luck. I was buried near the end of the festivities — and I use that term loosely.  Imagine my surprise when I learned we weren’t allowed to give acceptance speeches either.  Nope, if you had something to say, you could say it to a video camera backstage that posted to YouTube.   It was a blessing in disguise because the evening flew by.

I lost my first category (Public Service) to The Denver Post.  Yes, I lost to a newspaper, not a good sign.  I was beginning to lose faith in the magical lucky dollar.  Fortunately, it came through when I won the evening’s big award … Best Host/Performer.

The evening suddenly got much livelier after that.  Because we immediately left to celebrate (read that: binge drink).   You know what they say about winning, go big or go home.  I did both.