For the third time that evening, the studio lights dimmed and a hush fell over the audience. I looked down at the blank computer screen, placing my left thumb over the "A" button below the screen and my right over "C." I steeled myself for the question that would determine whether I’d have a chance to win a million dollars or go home empty-handed.

Then there it was. "Put the following governors in order by the state they represent, going from east to west." Manna from heaven for a political junkie like me! I quickly punched in George Pataki of New York, stalled for a second before remembering that George Ryan’s Illinois is east of Jesse Ventura’s Minnesota, and finished with Gary Locke of Washington.

Then, with his usual gusto, Regis Philbin said the words I wanted to hear. "And in the fastest time, Matt Phillips!"

I jumped out of my seat and made my way over to one of America’s most famous celebrities. As the taping paused for a commercial break, I thought back to how I got there, about to take my shot at a million dollars.

Despite the hype surrounding the show, I hadn’t watched "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" until the week of Christmas. A couple of weeks later, I watched again and jotted down the 1-800 number you have to call to get on the show.

Calling the number almost became an obsession for me. When you call, you have to answer three questions by placing items in a certain order by pushing the buttons on your phone. Of those who get the three questions right and pick the same tape date, 40 are randomly selected to go onto the next round. According to ABC, about a quarter of a million people call the 1-800 number every day it’s available.

One night, I had to put words in order to form the title to "A Star is Born," put several events in rock history in chronological order, and put four African cities in order from south to north.

The next day, The Call came. I was told to play a second phone-in round a week later. I bought the "Millionaire" book with sample questions. I studied the almanac. Mother Nature cooperated and delivered a blizzard that closed my office one day.

This round was similar to the first, except there were five questions and speed counted. I wasn’t sure whether I’d gotten more than three of the five right. But my doubts disappeared when an assistant producer called with the good news: I was one of the 10 best scorers. In two days, I would be on a plane to New York to be on one of the most talked-about shows on television.

I asked my dad to accompany me, since it was originally his idea for me to try to get on the show. Then I asked five people to be potential lifelines whom I could call for help on a question during the show. I picked three CD alumni—Mitch Frank, Eric Snyder, and Mark Staton—as well as my mom, who is a music teacher, and a coworker.

The day before the taping, Dad and I flew into LaGuardia. ABC had a driver waiting to take us to the Empire Hotel, near Manhattan’s Lincoln Center.

The taping day is planned down to the minute from beginning to end, and contestants can’t do anything by themselves, not even walk down the hall to the bathroom. The quiz show scandals of the ’50s drive ABC to take extra precaution against any possibility of cheating. There’s no honor pledge on "Millionaire."

The executive producer led us through some practice sessions in the Fastest Finger rounds and the Hot Seat. Then he gave us a helpful "do’s and don’ts" speech. I was impressed by how focused the staff was on making the contestants feel comfortable and helping them to do well on the show.

After dinner in the ABC cafeteria and a "hair and makeup session," the big moment arrived. We lined up backstage to meet Regis, took our seats around the perimeter of the stage and the taping began.

The carryover contestant missed his first question. Since I was the last contestant that night, I wouldn’t have gotten to the Hot Seat if he hadn’t been eliminated from the game so fast.

I got the first Fastest Finger question right, but I wasn’t the fastest. I missed the second question. The third time, the pressure truly was on, and for the first time I felt nervous. Then I got my question on the governors.

Once I was in the Hot Seat, I felt more dazed than nervous, like I was watching someone else.

I burned my first lifeline on the $2,000 question by polling the audience on the location of Old Faithful. I was almost sure it was Yellowstone National Park, but I didn’t want to risk getting knocked out early. After that question, time was up for that taping.

I felt more relaxed the second night. Maybe I felt like I had already cleared the biggest hurdle by getting the last Fastest Finger the night before. I also found that Regis is good at putting people at ease. We chatted about my job on Capitol Hill, baseball and other things.

It also certainly helped that my first several questions were questions I knew, including the name of Ross’ monkey on "Friends"—Marcel—and Al Gore’s occupation during his Vietnam service—journalist. With the Gore question, I reached the safe haven of $32,000, after which a contestant is guaranteed that amount even if he or she misses a question.

The $64,000 question asked what a "hajj" is in Islam. "A pilgrimage to Mecca" sounded better than the other choices. Rather than use another lifeline, I trusted my instincts, and it paid off.

Then I got the $125,000 question: "What company uses Bibendum as its mascot?" I had no idea. I called Mark. I had heard he was great at Trivial Pursuit, so I figured he might know something this random. Unfortunately he didn’t, but he guessed Parker Brothers or Birds Eye.

I then used my last lifeline to remove two of the wrong answers. Michelin and Birds Eye remained. I had always thought the Michelin mascot didn’t have a more sophisticated name than the Michelin Man. And although he sounded very uncertain, Mark had mentioned Birds Eye. I went with that.

Regis reminded me that I would lose $32,000 if I got it wrong. Yes, I replied, but I would still have $32,000. I made Birds Eye my final answer. I was disappointed that it was wrong, but didn’t regret my decision. You have to take risks to succeed on that show, and I felt that I had given it my best shot.

And $32,000 isn’t bad for two days of not working.