LOS ANGELES — For an entertainment journalist, nothing says "back to normal" more than trying to figure out the logistics of attending an awards show. After two years of remote-work comfort, one rebels against even the thought of Spanx, and I am too old and jaded for heels. It's the Emmys, after all, where the look is Oscar-casual plus gladiator sandals, and no one will be looking at me anyway.
But I had forgotten the disorienting labyrinth of street closures and parking anxiety that marks the beginning of awards season. After finally leaving my car in the lot adjacent to the Microsoft, I was almost hit by a limo — which, admittedly, would be a super-dramatic death.
And why settle for normal when super-dramatic is available?
