In a production this size, nobody stops moving. Crew workdays are 8am-2am, everyday, a hastily gobbled lunch the only respite from hanging, pinning, tuning, clanging, and generally present participling their way through an ideally-but-never-the-same obstacle course of unforeseeable logistical and technical snafus.

At this time of day, the uniform’s all black, the mood’s undistracted, the tone’s matter-of-fact. I’m not really supposed to be out here. I mean, there’re no rules saying I can’t be, but I’m decidedly out of uniform and blatantly, woefully under qualified. Hence, I’m writing this about as far away from the action as possible while still being able to eavesdrop.

Shortly, band members will emerge from bunks, hunt down catering, and blemish the scene with floral shirts and pointy boots. Until then, I’ll luxuriate in this zero percent chance of rain day, content to learn via osmosis and, fingers crossed, not piss anyone off.