5:30am. Wake up. I haven't woken up before 9 in years. Not a great start to the week, but I had a plane to Arizona to catch.
So I get to the airport an hour before the plane is supposed to take off. I start to go up the escalator to security, and the fat black lady who works there says "you gotta check yo bag". And I'm like, "what?". "You gotta check yo bag".
I tell her that I've flown a million times with this bag and I've never had to check it in. She says "put it in the thing and we'll see". And I put my bag in the thing that measures if a bag is small enough to be a carry on. It fits in.
"See, the wheels are sticking out. You gotta check yo bag".
Finally, I give in. And then I have to wait in the long ass check your bags in line. I'm starting to freak out. If I miss this plane, I will never hear the end of it.
After I get it checked, I head past that bitch to the security line. I get through and begin my search for Gate 44G. It turns out, Gate 44G is not in my terminal. You have to go down an escalator and outside, where a little bus comes every 5 minutes to take you to 44G.
The bus comes, and we proceed to drive ON THE RUNWAY. We hit a million stop signs where we have to wait for giant airplanes to pass through. Apparently, when you're on a runway, airplanes always have the right of way. It didn't say that in my driver's test.
And the thing that's driving me the most crazy: everyone on this bus has no urgency whatsoever. They could give a shit. I'm the only one who is jumping out of my skin. A guy looks at me and smiles, just sort of shrugging his shoulders like, "what can you do?" I'll tell you what I can do, I can never not fly Southwest ever again.
We get to 44G. It's a tiny outpost of a building about a mile away from the normal terminals. Boarding has started. There is no airway thingy, we have to walk outside and walk up some stairs to the plane like it's 19 fucking 65. I start to consider the possibility that I've been sucked into my TV and in the second episode of Pan Am.
My seat is 16A. I think this is a first class, or at least, business class seat. I get in the plane, and it's so tiny that 16A is the last row of the plane. And it's A because there is only a single row of seats. There is no B.
A second fat black lady is the lone flight attendant. She might be the same black lady from earlier. Every time she walks by my seat, her ass catches me in the back of my head.
We take off and I swear to God our cruising altitude was not more than 5,000 feet.
9:30am. Arrive in Arizona and go immediately into a production meeting. Just about everyone got there before me and I walk in as they are already going through things. Not a good feeling.
10:30am. We go to campus to shoot some bits. It's weird being back. Mostly because it's almost exactly the same, except now I'm 35 years old, over weight and sad.
The day goes well. The kids seem happy that we are there, and the bits go as planned.
5pm. We decided to do a twitter bit where Daniel announces where he is going to be on campus and he will give people who show up an opportunity to talk to him.
A mob scene ensues. After an hour of some great stuff, it's time to go. But how do you leave a bunch of waiting, eager college students?
You run for your life.
8:30pm. We finally finish shooting some other bits.
9:30pm. Eat dinner.
11:00pm. Get back to my hotel room and look over some stuff that's been edited and give notes.
11:30 Receive word about the Bachelor Pad results. Apologize to you guys for missing it in a blog post.
12:00am. Pass out.
9:00am. Arrive on a location off campus to shoot another bit, involving a cast of thousands. Well, a cast of twenties, at least.
It's a complicated stunt and it takes a few tries to figure it out. Eventually, we have success and everyone breathes a sigh of relief. But only because no one died, which easily could've happened.
11:00am. Get back to hotel and go into our make shift writer's room. Pitch jokes to fill holes in the show.
Some people go out on another shoot, while me and others stay behind to work on the script. Things are starting to get intense.
5:00pm. Arrive at a bar to shoot another bit. It's getting difficult to be around so many hot 20 year olds. Luckily I have my own room to masturbate in later.
7:00pm. Get back into writer's room and go over the script again.
8:30pm. Fancy dinner. We eat at a place in downtown Phoenix that Oprah has given her stamp of approval. And dammit, Oprah is right. It's places like this that make it impossible for Oprah to maintain a reasonable weight.
11:00pm. I finally return to the spot of many a glorious night...Mill Avenue! Unfortunately, on this night it is dead. I think maybe the kids don't go down here to party anymore. Is it possible that things could've changed after 14 years?
I get a cocktail and avoid taking shots as best as possible. It just isn't the same. With two more brutal days ahead, I head in for the night.
8:00am. Shoot our last bit. It's in a classroom, a classroom I once had for my Human Sexuality class. Those were good times...except when we had to watch that birthing video.
Get Jamba Juice. Berry Lime Sublimes taste the same everywhere. The American dream is real, and it is chain food establishments.
9:30am. Back to our hotel room and the post production room. Edit all the bits we've shot in the last couple of days. (NOTE: In every case, I'm not doing any of this by myself, everyone is involved and pitching in. I am just one of the worker bees)
12pm Eat a horrible lunch. I hate sandwiches, that makes lunch very difficult on me. I barely eat at all, which was stupid because I didn't get another bite of food for 10 hours. I definitely would've bit the bullet, or rather, the gross sandwich if I had known.
4pm. Head to the theater for rehearsal. It is ugly on the outside, old on the inside, but huge and impressive. This is gonna be insane. The giant screens look great, and the green screen looks exactly like the one back home.
Complicating matters: we are doing our first ever LIVE redemption. It's a big production, bigger than anything we've ever done. And anytime you try something you've never done, it must be gone over in mind numbing, tedious fashion.
8:30pm. Rehearsal has no ending in sight, so I have to sneak out for an interview with the ASU newspaper.
This is my triumphant return to the school. I used to walk around here anonymously, and now they are asking me about my "career". Unfortunately, I can't soak it in because rehearsals are still going on and I'm nervous and full of adrenaline and talk a million miles a minute. I might've said something racist, I barely remember. But they couldn't have gotten anything good out of me.
You know how the best revenge is living well? Yeah, I'd rather have fucked the hot girls while I went to school here instead.
9:30pm. Rehearsal comes to a merciful ending.
10pm. Dinner near the hotel with most of the staff. At last, another meal, and I take down a steak and 3 ears of corn.
1am. The previous day, we were told about a big house party, called the Rage Castle. We loved that name, Rage Castle. It became the joke of the week. We had to go.
We gather the troops and head over, and it is a complete bust. No one is there. We find out in a tweet the next day that the rage castle was moved "to Tommy's house last minute". Bummer. Fucking Tommy.
8am. Back in post production to put the finishing touches on the edited pieces. It's a grind.
11am. Head to the theater for rehearsals.
1pm. Walk to the ol' Memorial Union for a quick bite. I am reminded of the old days as I see a hot girl at the downstairs Burger King. I don't talk to her and avoid eye contact just as I did when I was 19. Those were good times.
2pm. More rehearsals. It's coming together. Especially the live redemption, we might actually pull it off.
A huge line is forming. Everyone is excited. The end is in sight.
8pm. The first show goes off without a hitch. Then that crowd exits, and we load a second crowd in.
10pm. The second show goes even better with a drunken, raucous crowd. And they love it. It's like Showtime at the Apollo with inebriated white people.
11pm. It's over. We did it.
Oh, except for one thing...
Midnight. We drive home. From Tempe to Los Angeles. 6 hours. Well, it would've been until we discover that the freeway IS CLOSED in Phoenix. We're stuck for an hour, before getting off and getting on down the road.
I have my first ever mental breakdown, and almost get out of the car and roll my non-fitting on American Airlines suitcase down the freeway back to ASU.
6:30am. Arrive home. Go to sleep.
1:30pm. Go back to the office to work on next week's show. Ah, the circle of life.
7pm. Go home. It's time to relax...by writing a bunch of blog posts.
And tonight at 10pm on Comedy Central, you will see the fruits of all my labor. Here's a preview.