I couldn't remember the last time I had gotten up before noon on a Sunday.

Yet there I was, struggling out of the comfort of my covers at 6 a.m. to go wait in a line behind thousands of people.

Why was I doing this? Were they opening a new Krispy Kreme?

No, my goal on this brisk morning was to join the throng of starry-eyed hopefuls at Invesco Field in hopes of becoming the next American Idol.

As a musician, I played my first gig at a library. I was paid $4 and one lukewarm soda.

Over the years, the crowds have gotten a little older, and instead of being paid in warm soda, I get paid in warm beer.

Winning American Idol allows performers to never have to go through this.

Upon winning, stardom, fans and enough money and respect to ensure that the beer will always be cold and frothy are earned instantly.

These thoughts were still fresh in my head as I pulled into the parking lot of Invesco and took my place in line among my fellow Idol hopefuls.

I sized up the competition and thought of reasons why people wouldn't make it.

Some were too tall; some were improperly dressed (cowboy hats, facial piercings, maternity wear); and others just didn't have that "star look."

But still, everyone thought they had something that would put them ahead of the rest of the competition. In reality, most of them did not.

Eventually, I made my way inside Invesco where contestants warmed up their voices in front of friends, mirrors and nacho vendors.

On the field, 14 booths were lined up opposite our seats. Each would be filled with one judge, none of whom were named Randy, Paula or Simon.

Two more hours of waiting in the blistering September sun and my section was led onto the field and split into groups of four. My group and I were assigned booth 14, the last booth at the end of the field and, more importantly, the closest booth to the "losers" exit.

After three strong performances, it was my turn to shine.

I introduced myself to my judge and began to sing Hey Jealousy by the Gin Blossoms. When I finished, the judge told me to sing something else. I fumbled my way through half of My Contradiction, a song I wrote that is guaranteed to be a chart topper by 2012. Alas, it was not enough.

"Are you in a band?" the judge asked me.

I replied that I was.

"You should stick with that, man. I don't think this is really your thing."

I agreed with him. It wasn't and probably never will be. Either way, I lost.

So for now, my dreams of becoming a reality-TV star are over. At least until I find the tryout line for Survivor.