The normal three person floor is bolstered to five, or six, and the noise level in the restaurant jumps dramatically right at five o'clock. People are crowded at the door, and are whisked quickly to a table where one of us greets them and begins the process of taking their order. Everyone is very focused, the chitchat is very limited, and people move with a pointed determination. Servers pass each other in much too narrow aisles, turning sideways and spinning, back to back, to continue on their way with whatever they happened to be carrying. Plates are cleared and passed to bussers who happen to appear at just the right moment. Food comes up on the line, and is immediately fallen upon by every available hand and delivered to the appropriate place.
It's intense, and powerful, and very single minded. 170 some odd people served within a two hour timeframe. No one questions, everyone just does. No matter what it is, if someone needs it, someone else takes care of it. We all perform everyone else's jobs as necessary. Serve, Seat, Clear, Pour, Fill, Check, Cork, Set... and then, as if the end of day bell had rung, everyone vanishes. The extra two or three people veer off from the floor and depart, and we settle into the normal nightly routine.
But for those two hours, we are a machine, hellbent on world foodination.