Inside the theater, the air smelled like old New York, like afternoon newspapers, your wife cooking dinner, and cocktails on a tray. It also smelled like television, or the making of television, anyway, like decades of heavy wiring and dust and electricity. The airtight door in front of me led directly to the stage, but the “ON AIR” sign above it was still dark. We were at least an hour before the taping and many hours before the show airs.
