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While most of the negotiators, deal makers and supporting players who came to Mayor Richard Daley`s office Saturday knew they were in for a long session, one came well prepared for an overnighter.

He brought a brand new toothbrush.

At about 8 a.m. on Sunday, the unidentified man walked out of the fifth-floor meeting that had been in full swing for nearly 24 hours, entered the men`s room down the hall, ripped off the cellophane wrapper and scrubbed those pearly whites.

The Chicago Board of Education`s annual mega-marathon negotiating session to top up its budget-usually just in the nick of time to insure that kids can go to school in the fall-has become a night that many have come to expect. But watching it over Saturday night and early Sunday provides insight into the evening during which millions of dollars, not to mention nerves, are agonizingly spent.

The public and their surrogate eyes-the news media-do not have access to the actual bargaining sessions. They can see none of the table banging and hollering, if there is any. They are even banned from the famed red carpet, and must watch the action through the wide doors to Daley`s City Hall office, doors that form an opening that looks a bit like a stage.

In the outer lobby, reporters looked for signs of action in a 30-hour production that ended with each major player-the Chicago Board of Education, the Chicago Teachers Union, Gov. Jim Edgar and the Chicago School Finance Authority-giving a little to close an $84.6 million gap in a $2.6 billion budget.

The set, framed by carved moldings of Daley`s office doorway, included the security guard`s desk, placed imposingly in the center of the inner lobby. Stage right and far stage left were doors, sometimes open, where the real drama was unfolding.

The play, at least this year`s version, was a cross between a police stakeout and students pulling an all-nighter during finals.

In many cases, the Saturday through Sunday afternoon performance was minimalist: occasional groups milling in public view with a few quick lines delivered outside to eager ears, cameras and microphones.

By 6 p.m. Saturday, leaders of the school board, teachers union and the finance authority already had been holed up for eight hours, but they were just getting started. They`d sucked down gallons of coffee in anticipation of the approaching night, then moved toward other caffeinated beverages to have with dinner.

While many had dressed casually and comfortably from the start, others wearing ties began to loosen the knots and unbutton the necks. The shirttails began coming out of pants, and hair that had gotten the literal run-through for hours on end was looking, well, on end.

One member of the teacher`s union contingent got up to fetch himself a soda while a paper napkin, not his shirt, was still firmly tucked inside his pants.

The negotiators also ate ravenously; several carts full of food went into the office and came out empty. The catered meal included chicken, a pasta salad, rolls and, of course, more coffee.

Throughout the night, candy bars were common. Several gallons of orange juice went in at about 3 a.m.-confirmation that a settlement was nowhere in sight, at least not before a healthy breakfast.

Some found it easier to stay awake by taking numerous brisk walks;

Ernestine Brown, a member of the teachers union, walked a lap or two around the lobby outside Daley`s office every couple of hours.

”This is torture for me,” she said.

Still, some negotiators couldn`t help but cat-nap. Through an open interior door at about 4 a.m., one could see a man playing a game of solitaire while people to his left and right put their heads on the table to sneak a few winks.

An occasional statement of encouragement (and a half-empty box of chocolates) from Daley press secretary Jim Williams, a brief trip outside and back by teachers union president Jacqueline Vaughn, a sighting of Noelle Gaffney, an assistant press secretary, heading to what was speculated to be a photocopy machine, all gave the waiting press corps something to watch, analyze, overinterpret and drop as unimportant as the hours dragged on.

Those on the periphery of the show-the numerous police officers, public relations personnel and city staffers-walked a middle line between

participating in and being aware of the late-night situation.

The security officers, who had the unenviable jobs of watching reporters watch people walk from conference room to conference room, seemed barely able to stay awake, but they never loosened their ties or mussed up their hair.

”I`m falling asleep with my eyes open,” one said as he used the wall to keep himself upright.

But this show, like other annual governmental activities that everybody agrees could be done a ”better way,” will probably play again next season.

”Always happens-once a year,” one board member shrugged as he took a break to stretch.