So the giant machine that is the Miley Cyrus production invaded Bryant Park, and New York City did not know what hit it. Thousands and thousands of young girls and their moms (I think there may have been two or three young boys) piled in, filled up the park and then continued to spill up and down the adjacent streets.
Call time was 6:30am (after rehearsing the night before), so we all yawned our way through the van ride, but by the time we ambled on stage and heard all the kids screaming for Miley, their boundless enthusiasm psyched us all up for sound check.
It went very smoothly. And once again, I was barely on camera for five seconds. Schmid Island is an exotic destination; most cameramen are not up for the trip. They like to stick to the safe zones, namely Jacotown and Jamieland.
The whole show was done by about 9:30am, when we should still have been in our beds, sleeping like the west coast slacker musicians we are.
Then Nadia and I walked, like, 87 blocks for some bagels.