By Brian S. Brijbag, Esq.
They call it “Hell Week.”
In theatre, it’s the final stretch before opening night — a gauntlet of missed cues, forgotten lines, and panic-fueled costume changes.
In law, it’s the days leading up to trial — a maelstrom of deposition reviews, exhibit binders, and the existential dread of a 7 a.m. docket call.
I’ve done both. Often at the same time. And I can confirm:
Hell has more than one zip code.
🎭 Act One: The Tech Rehearsal Grind
In theatre, Tech Week is where fantasy meets physics. The actors know their lines (mostly). The set exists (sort of). And now you must do what was previously a dream: run the whole thing — with lights, sound, props, pacing, emotion, and zero time.
It’s when:
- That “symbolic lantern” bursts into actual flame.
- Someone’s mic cuts out right before the emotional monologue.
- The actor playing “Dead Guy #2” suddenly decides to improvise.
- You discover the trapdoor sticks… and the door leads to someone’s purse.
Everyone is sleep-deprived, overly caffeinated, and whisper-screaming, “It’ll come together in the room.”
It’s chaos.
But it’s also magic.
Because if it’s working, by the final dress rehearsal — despite the missed cues and the prop sword that still looks like a pool noodle — something real begins to happen.
A pulse. A spark. A show.
⚖️ Act Two: Trial Prep Chaos
Now let’s move to the courtroom version of Hell Week.
Trial prep is where the paper meets the panic. You’ve lived this case for months, sometimes years. You know the medical records, the timelines, the witnesses’ middle names. And now, it’s all due — at once.
It’s when:
- Your star witness suddenly “has a trip planned.”
- The defense discloses 134 new exhibits… at 8 p.m. on Friday.
- You realize your timeline board looks like it was made by a conspiracy theorist with yarn and Scotch tape.
- The judge issues a pre-trial order with absolutely no regard for your desire to eat or sleep.
You’re running on caffeine, adrenaline, and whatever stale bagel is left in the war room.
The copier is jammed.
Your expert is being difficult.
You’ve started dreaming in closing arguments.
But then — you deliver a perfectly timed objection.
Your cross-examination outline snaps into place.
The chaos starts to sharpen.
☕ Common Symptoms of Both Hell Weeks:
- Talking to yourself, rehearsing lines or openings, in the car or the shower
- Sudden emotional collapse over a missing Post-it note
- Strange bonding moments with teammates at 2 a.m. over gas station snacks
- An almost religious dependency on coffee
- That eerie mix of dread + love for what you’re doing
🎬 Curtain Call: Why I Love Both
You’d think I’d want to avoid stress. That I’d choose one chaotic arena and stay in it.
But here’s the truth:
I love Hell Week.
Because Hell Week is when the work becomes real.
In theatre, it’s not about perfect blocking — it’s about making the audience feel.
In trial, it’s not about perfect citations — it’s about making the jury understand.
Both are performance.
Both are persuasion.
Both require discipline, instinct, and a stomach for uncertainty.
And in both, you can feel the stakes humming through your bones.
🌀 The Deep Part (Because I Can’t Help Myself)
Hell Week, whether on stage or in court, reveals you.
It exposes what you don’t know.
What you’ve avoided.
And what, when pushed to the edge, you’re really made of.
You can’t fake it.
You have to show up.
You have to stand there — in the lights, under oath, before a crowd — and trust your prep, your team, your gut.
That’s not hell.
That’s growth.
That’s art.
That’s advocacy.
⚖️🎭 Final Verdict
Trial prep and tech week are siblings, born of the same glorious dysfunction:
- Too much to do
- Not enough time
- A desperate hope it all works
- And the insane, unexplainable joy when it actually does
If you’re lucky, you find the beauty in both.
And if you’re me, you start wondering whether that juror in seat four would be better cast as Hamlet’s ghost.
Brian Brijbag 