Did you catch Bill Clinton and I on the Daily Show last night? Bill was being interviewed, of course, but I was off camera. Screaming and laughing. Amid 250 people.

Two wonderful friends managed to snag four tickets to yesterday’s show, and so off we went, four of us, to watch Comedy Central magic. The tickets are free, which means, like all free-ticket shows, they give out too many tickets and then let people in on a first-come-first served basis. The show informed us that taping would start earlier than usual, and that we’d want to show up by 2:30 — and we decided to play it safe and show up at 1:15, by which point there were already about 10 people in line (which means sitting along the wall, on the sidewalk, starting at the studio door).

The studio is in a nondescript part of Manhattan, about a dozen or so blocks from Times Square. And there, we waited. And waited. Every so often, a Daily Show security guard or intern would come out to inform us of something — that we should pick up our trash, that we can’t bring weapons into the studio — and then disappear, giving no indication of how long we’d continue to wait. That was probably smart: There was lots more waiting to do. We grew bored, and stared at the other people in line. One was dressed in a full army uniform, and carried a large blue shopping bag with some frilly paper sticking out of it. He eventually left the line to give the gift to the security guard, and from then on, he was allowed to stand in a seperate, VIP line.

By 2:30, which is when the Daily Show actually suggested we show up, the line was pretty large. Ten minutes later, it was capped off, and ticket-holders were moved to a second line along another side of the building. At 4 p.m., we were finally ushered through a metal detector, then crammed into a large, bare ”waiting room,” where we continued to wait — something we had become experts on. Within an hour, the doors to the studio finally opened. The VIPs were let in first — they announced that one of them, the army guy who gave away the blue bag, just came back from Iraq. Everyone applauded. Then the rest of us went in.

The Daily Show set is simultaneously larger and smaller than you might think. Larger: This thing is serious, loaded with cameras and hundreds of lights, a fully realized set you don’t quite get to appreciate on TV. Smaller: There’s Jon’s desk, three large screens behind it (ones to the left, right, and directly behind it), a little island of a set nearby with a podium on it (which was never used, and I couldn’t recall seeing an episode that used it), and then seating for 250 people (mostly facing the set straight on, but also perhaps 50 or so seats on stage right). And that’s it. It’s surprisingly intimate.

There was, of course, plenty more waiting. Then some guy came out to warm up the crowd. He paced in a circle like Dane Cook, shouting into a microphone, “DO YOU WANT TO MEET JON STEWART!?” Screams from us. “DO YOU WANT TO BE ON TV!?” Screams from us again, although we all knew, from watching the show, that the cameras never show the crowd. But whatever. He yammered for a while about how valuable we are — we’re the energy of the show! — and poked fun at some of the audience members, and then got sober, somber even, and urged us all to go to his stand-up show in a few days. “It’s going to be a really great night,” he said. “It’s in a really nice venue.” I got the feeling this guy’s best gig is right here, right now.

Finally, Jon came out, and the crowd went bonkers. He asked if we have any questions, and a few people fire off dumb ones. Then someone asked, “How did you like your present?”

“Oh, are you the doctor?” Jon asked.

“No, it’s that guy,” said the audience member, and pointed to the army guy, who’s been seated in the front, corner seat on stage right.

Jon greeted the army guy, and explained that he was sitting in his dressing room this afternoon when a staffer came by and delivered a blue bag. Inside was a bronzed jock strap, and a nice note addressed to Jon. “It now has a prominent place in my office, just next to my Stephen Colbert bobblehead,” Jon said.

Then it was time to start the show. Jon sat down at the desk, and immediately, the crew snapped into action. Four big TV cameras were rolled out on the set, the lights changed, the music came on, and we all went nuts. Jon’s all business during this: He’s intently focused on whatever camera his director points at, and just chugs through the script. It’s odd, almost: When you watch the show at home, you feel as if Jon’s really playing to the audience, the way a stand-up comedian does. But on the set, there’s no connection. Jon’s playing to the camera (as he should, really, considering there are far more people in TV land than in the studio), and his pacing is in response to the director, not us.

As per usual for the show, there was a segment with a correspondent, who was “reporting” from the set of Kid Nation. Turns out, the correspondent is standing in front of one of the screens next to Jon’s desk; the screen is turned green, so they can insert the background on TV. So there they are, Jon and correspondent, mere feet apart, staring at different cameras as if they’re seperated by miles.

During commercial breaks, a bunch of staffers huddled around Jon and talk, while music in the studio blared (presumably so the audience can’t shout at them). Then they cut back to the show, and Jon introduced Bill Clinton. The crowd roared and gave Bill a standing O — and then out walked the president, looking a little tired and weak, but still, shit, it’s Bill Clinton. It’s the closest I’ve ever been to a president. Bill smiled at the crowd, then sat down and gave a rambling, somewhat boring interview. The show’s director was constantly signaling to Jon to move the interview along, but Jon, as he’s wont to do with major guests, just let Bill ramble.

Then, commercial. Bill and Jon sat at the desk, chatting away. A girl in the audience, wearing a low-cut blue dress (with major boobage), who was sitting next to my friends, started waving at him. She was slight about it — just a little, constant wave, hand at about shoulder level, and she kept saying in a low voice, “Wave at the girl in the blue dress. Hi. Look at the girl in the blue dress.” And then, I kid you not, Bill Clinton looked out into the audience, smiled broadly and waved at the girl. Weird.

They cut back from commercial, and Jon and Bill did another somewhat bland interview segment. Still, we laughed and cheered, and when it was over, we gave Bill another standing O when he left. Bill’s a shameless glad-hander (or so I’ve read), but for his exit, he only waved at the crowd, shook the army guy’s hand, and then took off.

And that was about that: They cut back one last time for the “moment of zen,” then the show ended, Jon thanked everyone for coming, and we all got up and left. On the way out, we looked up at a sign at the entrance to the studio: “Abandon news, all ye who enter here,” it said.