BEFORE I BEGIN MY FINAL ON-THE-SCENE RECAP FROM THE AMERICAN IDOL THUNDERDOME AT CBS TELEVISION CITY, CAN I JUST TELL YOU THAT — oh, wait, sorry. My ears are still filled with what I can only describe as the Emergency Broadcast System tone turned up to 11 thanks to all the squeals, screams, and shrieks that buffeted the Idol Thunderdome’s walls for pretty much the entire tension-packed hour, and that’s including the commercial breaks. So let’s start again: Can I just tell you that after last night’s results show was over; after Ryan told Kris Allen he had become the first Idol cannon fodder to have a real shot at winning the whole shebang (as opposed to, you know, Diana DeGarmo); after Danny Gokey learned his fairy tale story — i.e. going from true tragedy to the fleeting "triumph" of becoming a judges’ favorite on a reality singing competition show — had ended in third place; and after Simon caused viewers everywhere to make a bumble-fuzzed "wuzzah?" face when he called next week’s finale a "big ding-dong," I witnessed one of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen in my three years of covering this infuriating, invigorating national obsession. The moment the show was off the air, Kris Allen’s mother raced over to Adam Lambert’s mother and the two women gave each other pretty much the biggest Proud-Mamas hug ever. I could’ve sworn my snark demon Smirkelstiltskin had a tear in his eye, although that probably was just because he’d no longer have the pleasure of watching Danny Gokey "meditate" by placing a single finger upon his stubbly chin.

ANYhoo. When I arrived at the Thunderdome, it was my first time there since The Incidents — not to be confused, of course, with "The Incident," last night’s off-the-hizzy Lost season finale, which I’m beginning to think has conspired with last night’s nail-biter Idol results show to give me my first ever pop-culture ulcer — and I gotta say, the Idol stage looked somehow…emptier, more foreboding, since I’d last seen it. This probably has something to do with the fact that the band was banished back to the top level, and that Idol‘s thumping behind-the-scene’s heart Debbie the Stage Manager was still MIA. (Though I’m given to understand that she’s mending well. Feel better Debbie!) But still, that ominously wide open stage set my mood for the rest of the hour, which wobbled from slow-burn anxiety to all-consuming dread to mordant bemusement that I can still care so deeply about this show.

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