By Sara A. Bibel
Fancast.com

I’m writing this at 1:30AM, fresh from the Daytime Emmys. I apologize in advance for any portions that are incoherent. This was my sixth Daytime Emmys – I’ve done three in New York and three in L.A – enough to come up with an overall Emmy narrative. The weather always sucks. The red carpet is always chaotic. Over the course of the evening, someone will get sloppy drunk. I will find out that two actors are hooking up. I will run into someone I haven’t seen in years. My uncoordinated, Caucasian self will spend too much time on the dance floor in high heels resulting in agonizing foot pain. Someone will spill a drink on me. I will do something stupid and embarrassing. When all is said and done, it will be one of the best nights of my life.
Red Carpet Madness
Wednesday, I got my Red Carpet press pass. I was supposed to get a pass for the press room as well, but I got bumped because the Fire Marshal decried that they had to limit access and I am but a lowly internet writer. Every other event that I’ve covered for fancast has been organized. I received credentials, parking information, a schedule, and a “tip sheet” with information about who was scheduled to appear at the event. The Emmys had none of that. I spent the morning trying to figure out when and where I was supposed to show up. Nobody from the PR company handling the event was available. Finally, in desperation I called the Kodak theater. The operator seemed to know all about it and told me to be there by 3PM. That gave me plenty of time. I started to get ready. Then I got a call from an editor at fancast who informed me that the PR department had just gotten back to her. The press check-in was already happening. Crap! I throw on my cocktail dress, slap on some make-up and book it to the Kodak. Fortunately, I live pretty close and I know a short cut.
There is no sign indicating where press should park, so I just go into the Hollywood/Highland mall complex, which turns out to be the right call. I rush up the escalators to the red carpet area. Fans are lined up in the triple digit heat to catch a glimpse of their favorite stars. That’s dedication. I search in vain for a spot to check-in. Every security guard I ask sends me someplace different. Finally one tells me that my credential entitles me to wander wherever I please on the carpet. That doesn’t sound right, but I go with it. Normally, there are designated areas for each organization, labeled with signs. But this time there are very few signs, and they’re all for broadcast media. After walking back and forth for while, I settle on an empty area near the entrance to the Kodak complex. Fortunately, I soon see a couple of familiar faces from the soap press, who proved to be an invaluable help. One flags down an event coordinator who hastily improvises signs for us. I’m relieved. ABC has thoughtfully provided cases of water to keep us all from dehydrating. I look around and realize that I’m the only member of the press stupid enough to wear high heels on the red carpet – my first bonehead move of the day.