It was a rip-snorter of a good time in Chicago last week. As it turns out, Peter Sagal has an extremely difficult job. Not easy. It was easy for me, though, and Peter might be well advised to mimic the way I sort of, um, streamlined his job.

It’s an awesome, high-tech machine that generates your favorite radio show each week. Our crack staff utilizes newspapers, computers, and the internets to create a finely-tuned script that is then conveyed to the Bank One Auditorium in a vacuum-sealed titanium container so that it’s in its most pristine form when we panelists smash it into a million pieces.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. As promised, let me tell you how it all works.

First, the “staff” (generally Peter, Amanda Gibson, Rod Abid, Emily Ecton, and Mike Danforth) kick off the week, going into Research Mode and emailing various stories between each other (and Doug Berman in Boston) in order to make sure that we have the very best content in the show. I was involved in this phase just as Peter normally is. Or at least I would have been, but the early part of the week featured beautiful weather and it seemed like a shame to remain cooped up indoors.

Amanda Gibson displays her primary source; Emily Ecton demonstrates what
[Amanda Gibson displays her primary source; Emily Ecton demonstrates what
“working on a computer” theoretically would look like.]

After that, the script starts to come together, and stories are turned into games. There’s a lot of back-and-forthing and creative decision-making and whatnot. It often got so intense that I had to crank the volume on my iPod to dangerously high levels just to ensure a little “me time.”

On Wednesday, Peter generally does a “pre-interview” with our “Not My Job” guest, so that task fell to me. Some kid on the Navy Pier had the gall to charge me ten bucks to impersonate me when calling Tim Zagat. If I wasn’t already late for a screening of “The 40 Year Old Virgin,” I probably wouldn’t have paid the little bastard.

Then it arrives - the Day of the Show. Late-breaking stories are incorporated. Philip Goedicke sends in his elegantly hand-crafted limericks. Carl Kasell arrives, and it’s time for the read-through.

Carl and Rod Abid acting like they've never waited a couple of hours for a host before. Attitude...
[Carl and Rod Abid acting like they’ve never waited a couple of hours for a host before. Attitude…]

After the read-through (a complete waste of time, especially because the Yankees were playing an afternoon game), we head down to the theater. Well, the rest of the staff did. I got a quick drink at a nearby tavern and caught up on some reading. But soon it was show time, at which point I ambled onto the stage and greeted all the little people that I couldn’t do the show without and etc.

The Little People: Mo, Paula and Charlie obviously think I should've worn something more formal than my good bathrobe...
[The Little People: Mo, Paula and Charlie obviously think I should’ve worn
something more formal than my good bathrobe…]

After that, it was nothing but magic. I think I was a bit, er, loud at first. Soon, however, Amanda was nice enough to clue me in that the thing in front of my mouth was some sort of voice-amplification device known as a “microphone,” which, I’m told, lessens the need to shriek towards the cheap seats.

All-in-all a great experience, and you can hear it here. I may do it again in the future, though showing up a day or two beforehand seems a bit excessive. If only Peter would relax a bit, he too would see how easy this can be.