Title: Aaron Carter! It's, like, almost too good to be true
Date: August 3, 2002
Source: Orange County Register
Source: http://www.ocregister.com/local/crazy00803cci4.shtml
Author: Amy Wilson, The Orange County Register
Location: US
Pick: Yes
Topic: News
We said almost. A couple dozen O.C. teens actually get to meet the young rapper.
There wasn't any screaming when the 34 well-rested kids were told the news at 9 in the morning.
"There was, like, shock, but I promise," said Asiahn Henry, 9, "there was no screaming."
"I did drop my mouth and sigh," said Natalie Reyes, also 9.
She sighed and then waited to see what to do next, because that's what you do when you're 9 and people tell you that a bona fide teen god is about to be in your midst and you're not sure what you're supposed to say or if you're supposed to stare or if you just do what the 11-year-olds are doing.
Which, truthfully, is not that clear either because when was the last time they mingled with a god?
See, Aaron Carter - designated pre-teen white-boy rap god, the one with the brother who's a Backstreet Boy, you know, you know, albums, videos, concerts, blond, baggy pants, earrings, lots of harmless attitude, the whole thing - was due any minute.
And he was going to stay all day because he'd been tapped to co-host "Wild and Crazy Kids," a Nickelodeon live-action show (6 p.m. Mondays) being taped at Orange County Fire Station 61, just across from Knott's.
"WACK," as it is known, had enlisted Southern California kids for this installment of the game show, having them play games like Arial Ladder Basketball Bucket Brigade and Infrared Teddy Bear Smoke-Filled Scavenger Hunt.
Fun, sure, and, OK, being on TV was big in itself, but this Aaron Carter news was bonus and very, very huge.
Sort of.
"I'm more into Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith," said Joey Gilmore, 9.
"I don't really like him," said Krystal Lopez, 11.
Holy smokes! The firefighters were more excited. Still, just when a person has to wonder about the viability of manufactured teen gods and their effect upon girlkind, here comes Krystal's entourage -- that is, her sister and her sister's friend.
"I would like to rip his clothes off," said Krystal's sister, Kathy, 16.
"I will enchant him," said Kathy's friend, Natalie Contreras, also 16.
How's that again?
"I will wait until he comes to me."
And you will wait forever because?
"Because he's Aaron Carter. He's life, joy, happiness and the essence of the meaning of life."
This is more like it.
Because Krystal's entourage is serious. Yes, they know he's only 14. But they have lived in America long enough to understand their job - something 9-year-olds clearly don't. That is, they are to admire that which is culturally ennobled by the official cultural ennoblers, like, oh, MTV and Tiger Beat.
He is only 14, you remind.
"We could be best friends," said Natalie, not wanting to appear untoward.
Amanda Goldbek is visiting here from Oregon. She is 14 and she is in that weird in-between age that is trying to be slowed down a bit by news of A.C. but not buying into star worship because 14-year-olds are so world-weary about that stuff.
"I would be more interested in meeting, oh, you know, that guy from, you know, he was Spiderman."
Tobey Maguire?
"Yeah. Is he here?"
No, we only have Aaron. Does he even look remotely good to Amanda?
"No, he looks like he just rolled out of bed. It's not a good look for him."
But, we note, she has a good sightline of A.C. and maintains it most of the afternoon.
"Kind of a California experience," she said by way of explanation.
We move on to the teen cuspers. That opinion is best summed by Emerald Curry, 12, who is not going to ask for an autograph because "I've heard stories that he's conceited."
But Emerald will do what she has to do get an appropriate number of glimpses of Aaron playing Frisbee, Aaron playing basketball, Aaron sipping Gatorade, Aaron getting jiggy with his bodyguards, so she can lord it over a good friend "who will pump me for information and I have to say something."
And so it went. Aaron Carter standing around, looking a bit uncomfortable, hot even, shooting hoops alone, doing what he was paid to do.
That is, be Aaron Carter, big clunky necklaces and all.
You ask if he minds the staring.
"I enjoy everything," he said (and you notice he doesn't even shave yet), "meeting all the girls, having all the fun. I've been working a lot, and this is actually fun."
Over by the lunch tent, a select group of interested girls are convening over A.C. He looks shorter on television, says one. Yeah, but he's rich, says another. And he's as famous as you get, says another. But he's not like the president or anything, says a naysayer.
The president, says an indignant Aaron fan, is old.
The little pack is in deep conference when Aaron walks by, not a foot from them.
Teen gods are taller and very special, they are saying among themselves, comparing pop culture awareness. Teen gods are rare.
Not a single one turns to see the real thing hitching up his pants, rearranging his hair, trying to be the personification of cool, trying not to weigh the expectations, trying not to disappoint.
