Dear Jon Stewart: I am your newest fan

I have a shameful confession to make: I have watched "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart" only a few times.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve liked it when I’ve seen it. It’s made me laugh. But, you know, it’s on at the same time as the 10 o’clock news, and I’m a creature of habit. Also, I didn’t want to be known as one of those people who gets her "news" solely from a satirical news program. (You’ve heard that, right? A lot of people in their 20s and 30s admit that "The Daily Show" and "The Colbert Report" are their only sources of news? Of course you have.)

So I felt kind of guilty when I ended up with a VIP ticket to Thursday night’s taping of the show at the History Theatre in St. Paul. But not guilty enough not to accept it.

I didn’t have to show up at 1 and stand in line for four hours to get a seat. I was instructed to arrive no later than 4:30, and with my typical good planning, I was 10 minutes late. (I’m always late. Ask my husband. Or my editor.) I came panting up to the History Theatre, and there was nobody in line outside. I walked around the barricades like I knew what I was doing, asked someone who looked official where I should go, and he actually called someone over to escort me to the right door. I marched inside, showed my e-mail confirmation letter, and was given a pink laminated VIP ticket with the number 136 on it.

Then I was directed to stand on one side of a black rope, with the other VIP ticketholders. That rope separated us from the regular ticketholders. The sheep from the goats. The wheat from the chaff. The royalty from the peasants. You get the idea.I hadn’t been treated with such importance since I was an entertainment reporter in Sioux Falls, S.D., but that only got me into stuff like press conferences with Alabama (the country music guys, not the state).

Within about 10minutes, an official-looking woman with a New York accent climbed onto a chair and yelled for quiet. She told us that the reason we were inside the building early was because of a protest march going on outside. She told us to turn off our cell phones. She told us cameras were not welcome: "If we see a camera, we’ll take it away," she promised.

We were given directions on what to do when Stewart took questions from the audience just before the taping. "Please do not ask for hugs or kisses or a lock of his hair," she said. Also, "yelling out your own jokes kinda interrupts the flow," so we were asked to refrain from doing so.

Then they started funneling us into the theater, 20 at a time, by numbers, VIPs first. I ended up in the center section, in an aisle seat, seven rows from the front. The audience was seated in a very orderly fashion; without exception, every person wore a goofy grin — especially those who ended up in the front row and exchanged giddy high-fives before they sat down.

The same woman who gave us our marching orders in the lobby addressed us from the stage. "I live in New York, and I’ve never seen such a hubbub," she said, praising St. Paul for its hosting of the Republican National Convention. She told us thatcomedian (and "Daily Show" writer) Paul Mercurio would be coming out shortly to warm us up, and then Jon himself, the reigning king of snark, would do the same. Then she granted everyone five minutes to use the restroom. I was proud of my row’s discipline: Not one person took advantage of the offer.

And then we waited. And waited some more. The show usually begins taping about 5:30 p.m.; on Thursday, it didn’t begin until past 6. The phenomenally good-natured crowd found ways to pass the time. Across the aisle from me, two guys played "Rock-Paper-Scissors." Another man took a little snooze, his head on his hand, while his companion frowned over a sudoku puzzle. On the other side of the theater, a group started a modified wave — a sitting wave. After 6, anyone who walked across the stage earned lusty applause and cheers.

Mercurio finally bounded out, saving us from potential mutiny. "You were doing the wave," he observed. "That’s a little queer."

He described himself as "your little warm-up monkey." He connected with the audience, identifying a few attorneys, trying to convince an unemployed man named Shawn to marry his girlfriend, Margaret, and exclaiming, "Oh my God! Black people! Holy s***!" when he spied them in the front row.

And he coached us in how we should laugh during the show. He recommended hearty laughter: "You can’t give me that ‘ha ha, I’m a repressed Protestant and it’s cold, I’m going to the Mall of America and forget everything,’" he said.

Then it was Jon’s turn. We gave him the de rigueur Minnesota standing ovation (and, for good measure,we gave him a few more before the show was over).

"We very much appreciate the reception we’ve gotten here," he told the crowd. "People have been very nice. Almost, quite frankly, suspiciously so."

He talked about walking around downtown St. Paul this week and happening upon an "anarchists’ rally": "They’re running, they’re fleeing, and a guy turns and stops and says, ‘Jon Stewart! Can I get my picture taken with you? Yeah, my friends and I are doing this, then we’re going up to the lake.’"

He said he preferred St. Paul to Denver, the site of the Democratic National Convention, "because it’s at sea level. Being here, you’re in a fully oxygenated environment."

An audience member asked Stewart why — in the stylized picture of downtown St. Paul behind the "Daily Show" desk — the state Capitol was in the middle of downtown.

"Why’d you move the capitol on us?" Stewart fired back. " … Actually, if you go outside, it’s moved. That’s a magic picture."

Someone else asked if Stewart had attempted to merge into traffic on a Twin Cities interstate while he’s been here. "No, I’m carried around by a small team of about eight Moroccan boys," he said.

And then it was time for the show. Bruce Springsteen’s "Born to Run" blared, Stewart got a final buffing from his handlers, and he sat down behind his desk. "The Republican National Convention in St. Paul, Minnesota, brought to you by Mace!" he intoned. "Mace! When someone’s standing in front of you and you want them to move! Mace! When ‘Get the f*** out of here’ just won’t do!"

The show, of course,was fabulous. Former Arkansas governor Mike Huckabee gamely answered Stewart’s questions, and he was even funny. Correspondents Rob Riggle and Samantha Bee did hysterical segments (and during Bee’s pre-taped bit, Stewart sat gazing at the monitor, beaming like a proud parent, and laughing out loud twice). The first part of Riggle’s segment had to be redone, and the audience was instructed to "react like you’ve never heard it before." (We did.)

Jon, you’ve got a new fan. I promise to forsake the 10 o’clock news in favor of "The Daily Show"as long as we both shall live. I’m a believer.