“You know, it really does feel like 11:15.”
That was Helaine’s observation as I passed her on my way upstairs to change into pajamas. She’s right.
It’s Friday. The news runs just 15 minutes with an expanded sportscast next.
I was out of my suit by 8:17 Pacific Time.
This last week on WTNH scrambled my circadian rhythm just a little. It’s now nine thirty. It feels like midnight.
“Maybe we should set all the clocks to Eastern,” she said.
I watch a little of the news. I listen to it all. My earpiece is connected to a phone dialed into one of News 8’s IFB lines. The producers and I chat a little before my hits. Most often asked: “How long do you need me to go?”
On most days weather is collapsible or expandable on demand. News breaks. Stuff runs long… or short. I’m very flexible.
Phil is also there. “Mic check, Fox,” Phil will say, then add. “How are the girls?”
Next week I’m going to ask the producers if they do anything different just because I’m far away? I don’t think so.
A week in and as far as I can tell no one really cares that I’m in California. Thank you. I was hoping for that.