I'm in Accra at the moment, following my appearance alongside Osei on The Breakfast Show, one of those morning talk shows where the set looks like a living room. We're pitching the bicycle show, obviously, and since it is the first Ghana has ever seen people are excited.

We drove down from Patriensa yesterday, and I spent the day satisfying my internet and french fry needs. I can honestly say that with the possible exception of a childhood trip with my parents, I have never stayed in a hotel suite before. It seemed like too much space- a living room I didn't need, a giant bed I didn't need. Especially in contrast to the standard of living in the village. But that's Accra for you- luxury and poverty.

When we arrived at the Ghana Broadcasting Corporation (the national station), the receptionist was all salty and told Osei (as if I weren't there) that I would not be allowed inside the gate. "What's the problem?" asked the Dr., "We are appearing on a show." She wouldn't look him in the eye, and changed the subject- would he please fill in the date on the visitor form? "Why won't Johnny be allowed inside?" he asked again. "They will tell you at the security desk," she said, eyes still averted.

The man at the gate was much more apologetic- "Please, allow me to follow procedure." Then a whisper- "Is he Ghanaian?". Again as if I weren't there, though I've come to enjoy the assumption (especially by Twi speakers) that I can't understand a word. Osei explained that both of us were to be guests on the Breakfast Show and the guy called his boss.

At first I was baffled by this treatment and the presence of so many guards with machine guns. Why does a TV station need three tanks? Then I remembered- Venezuela, 2002. When there are only two TV stations in the country (I think there are more but I can never seem to tune them in), controlling them can be a powerful tool in a coup.

we went to the security boss's office and she gave us this big long lecture about how she was risking her job. Fortunately the producer arrived and everything was okay. His assistant said to Osei, "You should have gotten clearance for him ahead of time."

"I told the producer all about him," he replied.

"Yes, but you didn't tell us he was white," she said.

"You mean that I am a foreigner," I said.

"Yes, yes, of course, if he were Nigerian we would still have to clear him," she quickly covered.

That business aside, we met with the producer to work out the interview questions. Since this was a promotion and not a debate there were to be no surprises so that everybody looked good.

My outfit was chosen for me (a Ghanaian getup) and the whitey makeup broken into to do me up. Makeup also decided how my hair would look. My look is quite nappy and designed to fit into a certain outfit, so this attempt to make me look as Ghanaian as possible without cutting off any hair resulted in me looking quite insane. But the hostess/interviewer loved me, probably because I wasn't another boring-ass dude in a suit, and I didn't mind looking like a freak- besides, all Obruni look like freaks to Ghanaians, I'm sure. Which is probably why Makeup had no idea what to do with me.

The other guest on the show was a martial artist and we sat in the green room. Then we went into the studio and watched the first 45 minutes of the show. It was fascinating- the studio had a set in each of the four corners of the room and when the cut-to-commercial music swelled the cameramen would just spin around and focus on the set for the next piece. They seemed really coordinated but I guess they did it every day and could also receive instructions from the producer via headphones.

Our segment went really well, I thought. Nobody stumbling over words, great chemistry between the three of us. At one point the power went out for five seconds.

[If you have ever wondered why I don't seem to believe in reality, it is because my life is increasingly a string of surreal moments. One of these occured when the power went out: One minute, I'm in the dark, and when the lights came on, I was on TV!]

It should be hilarious to watch- I will obtain a tape before I leave. Afterwards I got to go into the production booth a bit and watch the frantic scrabbling that results in a seamless show (though the standards of Ghanaian television are nowhere near America's- the ninja had the shadow of the boom mic on his face, for example).

Two more things about the show: One, Ghanaians watch TV as though turning it off would be losing money on your investment in the set. With only two channels to choose from, I know that viewership of this show was huge. I'm just tickled pink that half of Ghana saw "Johnny Payphone of the Rat Patrol" on TV, and saw us cut to a video of the tall chopper, and that they have no idea how ridiculous all this stuff is considered in America.

Two, the hostess was a young, perky (but not in an annoying way), attractive woman with a lazy eye. It reminded me of another item for my List of Things I'll Miss About Ghana: People with physical imperfections are allowed on television. People with normal body types. People missing teeth. Why can't a woman with a lazy eye be a talk show hostess? She can! Unless she's American.

We have a radio show on Thursday. I have a lingering resentment of radio DJs after doing too many shock-jock interviews back when the Miami University Masturbation Society hit the AP news wire... we'll see if Ghanaian DJs can redeem their profession.