I'm sitting next to the stairs. Jaimie Roberts sits next to me for a minutes. She tells me she'll be doing the second night as an actress but not the first - she couldn't get out of work. Her theory about why it's so calm tonight - it's because the building is so large and rehearsal spaces didn't have to overlap with each other so much. Not as much stress. I agree but later I think about the rehearsal spaces I had to walk through over and over today. That may not be it.
I catch up with a couple of playwrights and they look dazed, tired, and/or like hell. They're worried about how the script they wrote last night will come off. They're thinking about the next one. I track down Glen and Louis - the two playwrights I missed yesterday - and ask them to send me a middle-of-the-night email. I think they think I'm crazy. Maybe asking a playwright to report back on the Friday night process is a little crazy. I'm part of the asylum.
The lights are dimming. The show is about to start.