What’s your biggest fear?

For me, my biggest fear was having to be awake at 8 a.m. this past Saturday morning for my date with destiny. “Fear Factor,” the popular TV series that pits contestants against what scares them most, was in Charlotte looking for participants, and I was going to try out. What did I have to lose? Even if I was one of the Charlotteans who got on the show and did horrible, I’d still get a seven day paid vacation in Los Angeles.

I went in afraid I was going to spend the day jumping off 20-foot scaffoldings or scarfing down live cockroaches. I came out just that much more jaded about how superficial and pointless Hollywood can be.

Pulling up to the Time Lounge in Uptown Charlotte, it was clear there were a lot of people willing to risk life, limb and gastrointestinal tract for a chance at fifty grand. There were people of all genders, races, shapes, sizes and choice of beer, all waiting to get in and show the casting directors what they were made of.

According to Tyler Ramsey, chief casting director for “Fear Factor,” people had started lining up as early as 7:30 a.m. Sniffing out a bit of Hollywood guesswork, I went straight to the source – Greg and Steve Blackwelder, the first two men waiting in line.

They’d been there since 6:15, eager to do whatever was asked of them.

“He told me to come along. I hadn’t even heard about it, but he wanted me to come out,” said Steve, referring to his brother Greg.

I asked the pair what they’d do with the money. As typical with brothers, their views were completely opposite.

“Invest,” said Steve.

“Party,” said Greg.

UNC Charlotte senior Dan Padgett and his friends had more altruistic plans. “Well, we’ve got this deal that if any of us got on, then we give the other two $3,000 apiece – we’ve got that written up.” he said. “The rest is going for a down payment on my house.”

A fear of eating a sheep uterus threatened to derail that plan.

By 10 a.m., when the actual tryouts began, at least 250 people had lined up, stretching back around past the Comedy Zone. I got to skip that, luckily, and secreted myself through a side entrance to the VIP line for my chance to tryout, all while listening to Weird Al Yankovic’s “Eat It” being played ironically in the background.

At this point, things came to a grinding halt.

I stood in the bar, dozens of other would-be daredevils around me, staring at a big, red curtain that separated us from the interviewing area. I would proceed to stand there for the next two hours waiting for my turn. VIP, indeed.

One girl walked up to the open bar and ordered a beer.

“Twenty-four ounces of courage, eh?” the bartender asked. She just smiled nervously and nodded, and proceeded to chug the brew down like a racehorse.

Finally it was time to step behind the curtain and come face to face with Oz himself. Oz in this case was Tyler Ramsey, the very same casting director I’d spoken with earlier. He led me and seven others back to another bar to sit around and powwow – that was the extent of the tryout. No stunts, no disgusting things to eat, just a lot of talking. All of a sudden a bigger fear presented itself; the fear of having to be charming, witty and noticeable in a crowd. I was an underdog already.

For the next 10 minutes, Ramsey inundated us with questions. “Now I’m going to ask you some questions, but remember, what I’m really asking you is why I should put you on the show,” he’d say.

“What do you do for a living?”

“What would Joe Rogan (the show’s host) think to ask you?”

“What wouldn’t I know just by looking at you?”

That was it. Ten minutes later, we were told they’d be in touch if we made it, and we were herded out in favor of the next group of eight. To date, I haven’t been called back.

It’s just as well though. I’d gone in prepared to fly through the air, ride around on top of a moving vehicle or ingest one of God’s creatures, kicking and screaming all the way down my gullet. Instead of dealing with those faux fears, though, I could get my mind back on what really scared me.

Exams.