Being in LA on the night of an awards show can feel a bit like being in Vatican City during a papal conclave. Streets shut down, banners flag buildings, and a fantasia of light bursts forth from where the trophies are distributed. The city's collective consciousness is focused on one thing — a parade of stars arriving at a red carpet somewhere in the city. The red carpet is a horde of publicists with earpieces and clipboards and iPads and other such weaponry. Security is omnipresent, lines spiral around and intersect with other lines, and there are checkpoints with gun-toting goons there to scour credentials seemingly every ten feet.
Such is life during awards season, which lasts from December to the end of February in Los Angeles — when certain sought-after statuettes get disseminated. I've seen the city converge upon two awards shows this season, and it's infinitely more frenzied than what you see on TV.