The lights are all green and the traffic is non-existent, for once. In Los Angeles, this time of the morning is the only time it is actually quicker to drive than to walk. The crew is already on site, Eric and Rich have the satellite truck parked in a loading dock behind a jewelry store on Melrose Avenue.

It’s the only place to park in this part of town since the lane along the curb actually becomes a lane of traffic for a couple of hours each morning. Our producer Chris Spinder has scouted the location and secured a place to park … thankfully.

As I walk to the truck this early in the morning a bit tired,  but ready to go, the smell of smoke nauseates my senses. It may have been a week since the devastating fires stopped destroying homes and lives, but the smell of coverage still settles inside our sat truck. I feel like I am sitting in a can of smokehouse almonds. Across the street we wait for the writers, who will be here to picket by 9am local time. Eric has done his best, I guess, he has a bottle of vanilla-scented odor absorbing gel. Chris isn’t so happy with the early results, saying it smells like overwhelmingly pungent soap your grandmother bought years ago at a farmer’s market.