As previously noted, I’m a dedicated theater kid. If there’s a show nearby, it’s likely I’m in it. And while the action on stage is easily the most thrilling, the pre-show is where I wish more people could go.

It starts off slow; a couple actors, maybe the director, and one tech — at least one of these people is an overachiever. They move slowly, listening to calm music and talking in lower tones. Any crew available are either taking a few seconds to breathe or working hard preparing the theater for house to open. Someone has two mugs of some various hot liquid, and more are being produced. Then, more people begin showing up. Suddenly energy ramps up. The music crescendoes into a cacophony of loud voices lilting out of the makeup room. By now, a crew member has combined an eye roll with a sly grin more than once. Somehow, someone is already in costume and makeup, listening to music with their headphones on. An infinite amount of dishes are continuously being washed.

About 45 minutes before show, tech and cast split. Tech ventures towards the booth and cast remains backstage. The costume room is full of lewd jokes and bared skin. Self consciousness is either slipped away or worn as a second skin. Last minute changes and emergencies are covered by a tireless and endlessly patient costume crew. Cast is either hyping themselves up or calming themselves down. In the corner is someone who’s running lines. Someone else is loudly singing along to either Lin-Manuel Miranda or Brendon Urie. More are playing on their phones. The anxiety starts now, with butterflies and nervous movements.

In the booth, tech are double and triple checking cues. Levels are adjusted accordingly, and somehow work lights are always forgotten until after house lights are out. A flashlight is pulled out at least once, and someone has already mentioned quitting(it would never happen). A stage manager has checked in one, no two, no three times. Set is checked with lights one more time. Thumbs up are common. Pen and paper to kill time are more common. House is open. Tech unintentionally hides until they get the text to look out, find their friends. Giggles are a dime a dozen. Pre-show music has started. Somehow, even after only two days, lyrics have been memorized.

And then, the blessed places call and we are finally starting. House lights go to half. Then they’re out. And then you’re ready to experience at least a months worth of work. But unless you’re backstage, I’d argue that you never really experienced theater in its purest form.