While working in Washington this summer I had a couple close encounters with the cast of ‘The Real World.’ The cast’s house was about five blocks away from my job, and on more than one occasion, I found myself staring straight at a camera while it followed college-age kids around D.C.’s Dupont Circle neighborhood.

Naturally, I watched the first few episodes of the season when it aired over Winter Break to look for myself (not that I’m that arrogant) or anything else from my native metropolitan area that may have taken its pants off in public. Instead, I found endless hours of whiny, soap opera storylines among eight mindless drama queens whose every conflict was a thinly veiled manifestation of alcohol-induced sexual tension. Or, as MTV calls it, what happens ‘when people stop being polite and start getting real.’

Is this really what life is like when a camera films your every move? Granted, MTV goes out of its way to film ‘interesting subjects,’ aka. ‘good-looking people who aren’t all that bright.’ But why is it that eight people who once seemed reasonable on their casting tapes (Yes, I watched them. No, I’m not proud of it) immediately devolved into belligerent preteens once the cameras turned on?

As part of a Photography 205 class assignment this week, I got a little taste of what life must be like as a ‘Real World’ cast member. My professor gave each of his students a partner in the class to film and interview for a project, and all day yesterday a digital camera filmed my every move. Luckily, I wore my skinny jeans.

Granted, a shot of me with my laptop is about seven whack jobs short of a typical ‘Real World’ episode. But it didn’t take long for me to realize why every reality-TV star ends their tenure on the boob tube looking like an escaped inmate from Arkham Asylum.

You see, there’s something about a camera that makes everyone in front of it want to say and do stupid things. Don’t believe me? Ask your friends about the home videos their parents filmed of them when they were younger.

My parents’ cabinets, for example, are stocked with VHS tapes of my 5-year-old self decked out in full-body knight gear, challenging my father to duels with a plastic sword while my old man struggles to contain his laughter from behind the camcorder. (For the record, the one time he accepted my challenge I totally kicked his a**).

These days I’m a little more mature, but that didn’t stop my desire to act out once my photo partner pressed ‘record.’ As soon as she started filming, a little voice inside my head kept telling me to spice things up. Truth be told, if I had my knight suit on me, I probably would’ve beaten the poor girl with a plastic sword (no, not that plastic sword.)

For nearly an hour my partner filmed me making a complete idiot of myself as I tried to be compelling in front of the camera. I then somehow managed to sound racist, sexist and anti-Semitic when she interviewed me. (And that was before I even got to the confessional booth.)

Now that I know how tough it is to live on camera for a day, I have a newfound respect for the cast of ‘The Real World.’ Sure, they’re about as useful to society as Rosie O’Donnell’s salad drawer, but I’m beginning to think they’re not quite as dumb as the camera suggests.

I’m even considering auditioning for the next season. I bet they’ve never seen a sword as big as mine.

Danny Fersh is a sophomore broadcast journalism and his column appears every Wednesday. He’d like to thank Rachel, apologize to Leah and assure his readers he’ll limit his camera time to just ‘The Fresh Squeeze’ from now on. He can be reached at dafersh@syr.edu.