Invitation ready, the Scallywag team arrived at Milk Studios for the 8th floor showings with plenty of time to situate ourselves. Upon entering the very crowded foyer, we are directed to a group of employees near the entrance to the main room. Instructed to check in with people behind ridiculously large apple computers, we weave through the hoards of fabulously and questionably dressed individuals, to find that myself, the writer, has a pass but not my photographer. Sent to another group of clipboard wielding employees, then directed to someone else, who directs us to another person, who says we’re good to go. Mr. Suit Man with his white-house-esque ear microphone says no. Apparently there is a new system at Milk, and its glaring design gaps are as wide as the grand canyon. I believe we spoke with literally every employee that evening and no one knew what was going on. At some point it was too late for backstage and we were told to wait in the line, which had become massive over the duration of our bouncing in between people dressed in all black and fabulous footwear. We almost left, but we knew we had a responsibility.
I thought to myself, this had better be good.