Red, White and Whew

This year marks the 25th anniversary of Along Came Mary, probably the busiest of all local event production companies. President and founder Mary Micucci has made her reputation with the premiere post-party, from her first, for “Popeye” in 1980, to the recent affair for “The Patriot,” where we hung out with Micucci and her staff. “The best part of my work,” she says, “is that each event brings a whole different palette of creativity in the menu, design, entertainment and lighting.” Along Came Mary’s preparations and cleanup for the Tuesday evening All-American “Patriot” picnic, which took place in a Century City parking lot, started at 7 Monday morning and ended at noon Wednesday.

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Tuesday, 5:20 p.m. Micucci emerges from sleek production trailer--”a place to cool off, take a shower”--with walkie-talkie in hand.

5:31 p.m. “They have to fix this tree,” Micucci tells a staffer, pointing to a trucked-in pepper tree. “It looks disgusting. Don’t let that dude leave.”

5:40 p.m. “I could have a heart attack right now,” a lighting company representative announces. “Instead, I’m going to get drunk.”

5:45 p.m. The center of the All-American Burger tables are designated “condiment heaven.”

5:52 p.m. Micucci does emergency shopping at the Pottery Barn across the street for some pillows for the lounge couches.

6 p.m. Seventy waiters and 15 bartenders to serve the anticipated 1,500 guests begin to check in.

6:05 p.m. Half a dozen prep cooks in kitchen furiously fry chicken breasts and potato skins.

6:30 p.m. Fireworks details worked out with inspectors.

7 p.m. Micucci disappears into trailer.

7:15 p.m. Freelance server, after getting her fried chicken assignment, exclaims, “They’re having fried chicken but no mashed potatoes!?”

7:22 p.m. “Do you have a minute to talk?” a freelance waiter asks Mary Knowles, director of staffing. “I have some issues with my back. I’ve been doing physical therapy. But I need to take a long-term leave of absence. I’m just all out of whack.”

7:26 p.m. The trailer’s driver chills in the shade of the vehicle’s awning. “She’s in makeup now,” he says of Micucci.

7:30 p.m. The restroom attendant places hair spray, baby powder, cotton balls and a crystal dish of hard candy in luxe four-stall Porta Pottis, which feature framed Impressionist prints and piped-in music.

7:36 p.m. Executive Chef Bill Starbuck samples the macaroni salad. “This tastes like Dijon mustard,” he mumbles.

7:40 p.m. Deejay Mike Messex tests sound system with Springsteen’s “Born In the USA.”

7:45 p.m. Micucci emerges from trailer in white linen jacket, black top and white capris. “Cynthia, come on line,” she speaks into walkie-talkie. “These pots need moss.”

8:30 p.m. Staff of about 100 twenty- and thirtysomethings from Columbia Pictures line up for fried chicken, vegetarian or five-alarm chili, wild green salad and strawberry shortcake. Their job is to sit in the VIP section until real VIPs arrive.

8:55 p.m. Red carpet is rolled out.

9 p.m. Micucci thanks staff for “being here tonight . . . Please, no running out of food at buffets.” Unlikely, given the 2,000 hamburgers, 1,200 hot dogs, 250 pounds of steamed littleneck clams and 5,000 pieces of dessert.

9:20 p.m. Main message to VIP waiters: “Watch your Sternos.”

9:30 p.m. “Ashtrays!” Micucci shouts. “We don’t have ashtrays? How did that happen?” Tin cans filled with sand are put to use.

9:43 p.m. Micucci eats a turkey dog with mustard, relish and sauerkraut.

9:46 p.m. Guests begin to arrive. “This doesn’t taste spiked,” complains one, after sipping the grown-up lemonade spiked with Vox vodka.

10:05 p.m. All-American Burger tables are rocking.

10:15 p.m. Keg crisis. “The MGD is coming out foamy,” says the bartender. Rear bar’s corkscrew is missing.

10:32 p.m. The 192 bottles of white wine are going quick. Kevin Allen, the bar supervisor, asks bartenders to “push beer. Make it an All-American thing.”

10:43 p.m. “Patriot” star Mel Gibson arrives.

11 p.m. Red, white and blue fireworks begin. Smoke billows over crowd. Some guests squint.

11:08 p.m. Micucci buses tables while Cher stands nearby, chatting on a cell phone, flanked by two security guards.

11:40 p.m. Party dwindles. Kitchen staff loads remaining food into trucks for Angel Harvest charity pantry to pick up the following morning.

11:50 p.m. Micucci has a cigarette and calls it a night.