When klutziness reared its ugly head on audition day, leaving me in a wheelchair, you'd think that pressing through my audition anyway, mere hours after breaking a bone, would have softened even the cold-hearted Simon. Well, no such luck there either.

So here's the whole story from beginning to end. You'll laugh, you'll cry. Looking back, I know I did:

The website said auditions were to begin at 8 a.m. on Oct. 5 at the Cow Palace. Scared that rumors might be true and they would only have time for the first 1,000 people, I packed my sleeping bag, sandwiches, drinks and plenty of magazines and headed up there days ahead to camp out.

Camping was rough. Bundled up in only my thin sleeping bag on concrete, I couldn't sleep—rain sprinkled my face and those around me stayed up all night singing songs.

Around 6 a.m., bullhorns woke up whoever was sleeping. Overnight, the crowd had grown from a few hundred to around 20,000. After our ages were verified, we were each given a number and wristband, indicating seat assignments and the order for auditions. During orientation we were told there would be 10 booths on the floor of the arena the next morning. We were to report to a booth, four at a time, and sing for a production assistant who would either pass you on to the second round, or send you home. My plan was to sing Aretha Franklin's "Natural Woman."

I returned at the crack of dawn as instructed, nervous and jittery. Inside, camera crews were already wandering around the stadium. My seat was practically in the rafters, at the end of a row. I tried squeezing past people, but some ignored me. I climbed onto another seat to get to the row above and go around. Big mistake, especially in open-toed sandals. The chair folded in on my foot ... hard. I had so much adrenaline pumping through me at the time, though, I barely felt a thing and continued on to my seat.

I started to prepare for my audition, but felt an odd sensation, like I had a rock in the bottom of my shoe. I looked down at my left foot, and saw that one of my toes was bent to the left, and my sandal was starting to fill with blood.

At that point, I went into denial. I had waited so long to get my shot at American Idol. This wasn't happening.

I continued preparing, convincing myself nothing was wrong until the girl next to me turned and said, "You're bleeding." It finally hit me. I burst into tears. Why did this have to happen to me, and why now?

Paramedics came. I was bawling at this point. The cameras all caught wind of it, so I tried to cover my face as they carried me out. I had hoped to make it on camera, but not this way!

At the first aid station, paramedics called my mother and boyfriend, and they came to take me to the hospital. That nice girl asked the producers, if by chance I made it back, could I still audition, even if my number had already been called? They said most likely, yes.

My big toe had a gash that possibly needed stitches, and X-rays confirmed a dislocated and broken second toe. They gave me two painful shots of Novocain, and popped my bone back into place. By the time it was over, the blessed drugs had kicked in and I couldn't feel a thing. I told my mother to head back to the Cow Palace.

Before I could even tell anyone my name, they all greeted me—"The broken toe girl came back!" Instant fame.

I was given a wheelchair. My mother pleaded my case to a producer, and before I knew it I was a few rows back, in line at a judging booth.

I watched others audition. There were amazing singers being sent home; yet some freakish spazzes, both good and bad, were being passed on to the second round. I panicked. Although my wheelchair might earn me some sympathy—and might not—the song I had practiced, which I thought sounded good, was not likely to do the trick if these other great singers were being sent home. So I changed it up a little.

I had planned on singing Aretha's version of "Natural Woman," but I did a quick re-write. I stood up—on one foot—and here's what I sang:

"Look what I've done to me! Oh, it sure don't feel so good inside. And I just want to be, gotta be, back to the Cow Palace in time! 'Cause I wanna feel! I wanna feel! I wanna feel like an American Idol!"

I thought my voice sounded strong. The judge just kind of stared at me; then started laughing. She turned to the other three people in my row and said, "The three of you can go home. As for you"—she pointed at me—"You're going to the second round."

I was speechless. I was handed the bright yellow piece of paper all first-round auditioners coveted. My mother wheeled me away from the judging table, and toward the dramatic black curtain that separated the first round from the second.

Cameras and auditioners surrounded me. They all wanted to hear the story of my accident and of how the audition went for the "Broken Toe Girl." They filmed me waving my yellow piece of paper in the air excitedly, and that whole side of the stadium cheered. I later heard I was one of only about 100 people—out of nearly 25,000—that made it to the second round.

We were about to face Simon.

Simon was locked in a small room, guarded by so much security you'd have thought President Bush was in there. We were told to have two songs prepared for this segment that was to be filmed.

There were some freaks in this round. One guy—who was passed on to the final round with Simon, Randy and Paula—had an Afro about three feet wide, and more gaudy jewelry than I'd ever seen. Another guy was dressed like Elvis in a white, rhinestone-studded suit, yet sang Madonna's "Like A Virgin." A third appeared to be a priest. A camera crew asked, "As a priest, why do you want to audition for American Idol?" He replied, "I'm not a priest, I just dressed the part since I'm singing George Michael's 'Faith'." Another girl wore African wraps, but sang opera.

The camera crews interviewed me again, asking about my accident and my feelings as I waited. When it was my turn, my mother wheeled me in, and was then ordered to leave.

I was standing on one foot in front of a huge backdrop emblazoned with the American Idol logo and pictures of the three previous winners. Lights shined in my face, a huge camera pointed at me, and there sat Simon, flanked by two assistants.

I was asked a series of questions on camera, such as why I was in a wheelchair—yes, I had to tell it again—how old I was, what I did for a living and what I would be singing. I told them Aretha Franklin, but with a slight twist.

I sang my humorous rendition again. When I finished, Simon sat back, arms folded across his chest, and he sort of sneered.

"Very entertaining, but I don't think it at all shows what you're capable of," he said in his British accent.

I was a little surprised. Even though I had changed the words, I still sang it just as it was meant to be sung. I sang my heart out—I didn't crack, I belted out all the high notes.

"OK. I have another song. Alannah Myles's 'Black Velvet'."

"Well, if that's what you want to do," he said, his tone suggesting he didn't approve.

Halfway through the song, Simon flicked his arm into the air. I stopped.

"What? Why did you stop?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were motioning for me to stop," I said.

"No, I was only swatting a fly. Don't be so paranoid!" he said. "Although I'm surprised you even saw that, it was probably the only point in your entire song that your eyes were open."

"Oh. OK, I'll be happy to sing it again, with my eyes more open," I conceded. I sang again, making a strong effort to keep them open. This time he definitely stopped me.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that your voice is simply not strong enough to continue any further in this competition. But thanks for trying, especially with your toe and all."

I tried to be gracious, despite the rejection. "Thank you for the opportunity."

My mother was sent back in to wheel me out. It appeared as though Simon was dissatisfied with my calm reaction to being cut, and decided he would try and goad her into a more dramatic one.

"Is this your mum? Well, Mum, I'm sorry," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "She didn't make it."

I was proud my mother didn't take the bait, as she has been known to on many other occasions.

"That's OK," she said politely. "I'm just proud she made it this far." He sneered again.

The cameras were already filming when the door opened and I was wheeled out. They interviewed me again, asking what happened, and then we were escorted out. I got to keep my number as a souvenir.

Fast forward to the present day. After many weeks on crutches, with a not so fashionable "shoe" protecting my foot, I'm pretty much healed.

I'm glad I auditioned, even if the whole memory is rather embarrassing and painful, and most people would probably wish to forget it. But, hey, "Broken Toe Girl" might be on TV when the season starts. And there's always next year.

"American Idol" premieres on Jan. 18 at 8 p.m. on Fox. To hear Jennifer sing many of her original songs, see her band at www.SweetDuration.com.