The applause roared and reverberated through the air.
Even standing outside the studio, one could clearly feel the surge and intensity of the rolling heat waves, as if the entire world was spinning and boiling over.
Involuntarily, Jay Leno closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel the splendor of the mont with his ears and his heart. His mories began to rewind through the tunnel of ti.
It was 1975. He was twenty-five years old, driving alone, embarking on a journey across the North Arican continent from New York to Los Angeles to pursue a career as a codian.
In the blink of an eye, more than twenty years had passed. He thought those mories had beco distant, sothing he might never revisit again in his lifeti; but to his surprise, they were still as vivid as ever, as if they had happened just yesterday. With just a glance back, he could see his father and mother standing at the crossroads, watching him leave.
His mother was a maid; his father, an insurance salesman.
They were both ordinary, honest people, so down-to-earth that they never ventured into business, choosing instead to earn their wealth through hard work. Though their lives were modest and ager, they were solid. With this steadfast approach, they raised him and his brother, creating a world of opportunities for them.
When his mother found out that he was planning to go to Los Angeles to pursue a career, she didn't object. But he would never forget the worried look in her eyes as she watched him quietly, filled with both concern and love. However, in his youthful exuberance, he hadn't noticed. His mind was solely focused on the joy of chasing his future.
His father and mother had no ambitions beyond hoping that their two sons would have safe and happy lives. They didn't mind if their lives were ordinary; in fact, they would have preferred them to stay in New York, to remain close, like other Italian immigrant families, bound together.
But in the end, he chose to venture far from ho.
At first, he left with great excitent and joy, eager to step on the gas pedal, driven by the thrill of the unknown. He completely forgot the image of his parents standing at the street corner in his rearview mirror until he had been away from New York for only a short while and already began to feel hosick.
Happiness and sadness, joy and bitterness—conflicting emotions tangled together. As he laughed, he suddenly realized that tears were wetting his cheeks, and he found himself sinking into deep loneliness. Pulling over to the side of the road, he laid his head on the steering wheel and sobbed uncontrollably.
At this mont.
Without warning, that fleeting image from the rearview mirror surfaced in Jay Leno's mind.
Back then, it was just a glance, sothing he didn't pay much attention to; but now, over twenty years later, that scene was crystal clear.
Caught off guard, Jay Leno stood there, dazed.
"Jay?"
"Jay!"
It wasn't until a staff mber noticed Jay Leno standing in the hallway, greeting him in surprise, that he was jolted out of his thoughts.
"Jay, are you okay?"
Jay Leno quickly realized that his expression had betrayed his emotions. Although he wasn't crying, his eyes and facial expression revealed a sense of loss, exposing his true feelings.
This made Jay Leno a bit flustered.
But he managed to regain his composure.
"No, I'm fine."
After a brief pause, Jay Leno looked at the staff mber.
"What a moving performance, don't you think?"
The staff mber followed Jay Leno's gaze toward the studio. "Absolutely, a real surprise. When we first planned this segnt, everyone was worried it might flop; but now, it's clear they've far exceeded expectations."
A slight smile tugged at the corners of Jay Leno's mouth.
Noticing this, the staff mber asked, "Jay, why don't you go in?"
Jay Leno shook his head, "No, enjoying music is the sa no matter where you are."
With that, Jay Leno prepared to leave—he needed so private ti to quietly process the emotions swirling within him.
After taking just two steps, Jay Leno stopped, turning back to the staff mber. "By the way, once the recording is over, arrange so ti for the audience to et the perforrs."
Typically, after a talk show recording, the production team might arrange a short interaction with the audience, where guests or Jay Leno himself would shake hands and hug audience mbers as a way to thank them for their support.
However, this was less common on "The Tonight Show." Such segnts were more suited to morning talk shows, where the audience was more likely to appreciate the interaction. The late-night audience, often tired from work, didn't particularly seek out social engagents, even if it was just a handshake or a hug.
Occasionally, very occasionally, "The Tonight Show" would include such a segnt.
The staff mber hesitated, "Are you sure?"
Jay Leno's smile widened. "Trust , the audience will be grateful."
Jay Leno understood the staff mber's hesitation:
Was this really necessary?
Miles, Connor, and Lily were essentially ordinary people. They had no mystique, no star power—just street perforrs you might find anywhere. Connor was even a supermarket cashier. To the late-night show audience, they held little appeal.
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As for Anson, the situation might be a bit better, but at the mont, Anson is still just a rookie actor. Jay Leno believes that many female viewers like Anson, but most of the audience present in the studio today are office workers, and they're mostly n.
In theory, once the recording is over, that should be it; there's really no need for any extra interaction.
Jay Leno, however, felt a little differently.
He initially thought the sa, but after reflecting on his experience and insights just now, he suddenly realized that the situation might be a bit different from what he expected.
Those office workers, just like him, needed this kind of comfort for their tired and worn-out souls—a bit of emotional release, a bit of warm care.
Even if Miles and the others were just ordinary people, it wouldn't matter. Music is the best bridge.
As it turned out, Jay Leno was right.
Originally, the recording had already ended, and the audience was obediently standing in place, waiting for the production team to arrange their exit. Their eyes never left Anson and the others, and their gazes revealed a sense of connection and longing.
Then, when the production team announced that there would be a handshake and hug session, the studio imdiately erupted with excitent, and you could even hear faint cheers.
One by one, two, three, four, five, six—they all started lining up.
After a bit of chaos, the scene was brought under control. Over two-thirds of the audience ford a line that snaked around the studio, unable to contain their excited emotions and eager hearts, inching closer step by step to the bewildered and confused band mbers.
The funniest part was that even a small number of production team staff joined the line, hoping to get up close and personal with the band mbers.
Clearly, the band mbers had no idea what was going on:
This wasn't part of the plan.
Miles and the others all looked at Anson, but unfortunately, Anson didn't have any answers this ti either. He just spread his hands and said, "Let's just follow the production team's instructions."
Connor was a bit nervous and apprehensive. He'd seen lines before, but they were always at the grocery store checkout. The line in front of him looked oddly familiar, and for a brief mont, Connor felt like he was back in Kansas City on a busy Saturday afternoon.
Is this normal?
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