...and so there we were, two
strangers, one of them with the most amazing accent in the world,
headed to the theatre together.
strangers, one of them with the most amazing accent in the world,
headed to the theatre together.
Email to L.T., 1/28/10
Theatre. One of the many reasons I had wanted to live in NYC my entire life, and which had now become the reason I resolved to never move.
Living an independent life in New York was just as exciting as I had always hoped it would be, but what I didn't expect was how lonely and difficult it could become at times. Luckily (or not so luckily, depending on the state of my social life at any given time) my job kept me busy oh, about 100+ hours each week, which left just enough time to have one meal a day and sleep a few hours. Rinse. Repeat. Which means it was also difficult to keep friends. It was relatively easy to make them, and I did, boy did I. But how can you expect someone who works 9-5, Monday through Friday, with a solid one hour lunch break (every single day! the luxury!) to understand why you cannot make plans with them tonight, probably not tomorrow, but hey, why don't I check back with you in 6-9 months after deposition season is over but before trial prep begins? And oh, if you could cross your fingers and pray for a settlement, maybe we can see a movie sometime! So those friends I made, I couldn't keep them. Or they couldn't keep me.
But Liz, she understood-- We worked together, we ate together, and when we had a spare second, which would coincide since we were on the same trial together--we hung out together. I relied on her constant companionship and blunt sensibilities to get through the especially rough patches, of which I was in the midst of that January 15th two years ago.
Her response sent an unsuspecting blow. Something had come up, and she had to go to her family's house in Brooklyn that evening. At first I panicked, knowing I was unlikely to make it through that Friday night by myself, then I stuck my chin up and resolved to go to the theatre on my own and I told her so. I hemmed and hawed over this idea for a few hours. I wavered back and forth between feeling strong enough to go to the theatre, on an intimate date for one, or going home and crawling into bed and feeling bad for myself. Pouting. Eating take out. But Liz convinced me that I should go ahead with my original plan to see a show. I loved the theatre, remember? It would take my mind off things.
I spent the rest of the afternoon juggling my work while also methodically deciding which show I would see since I no longer had to consider the tastes of another. A list of plays, a list of musicals. Which were funny, which were serious. Which were closing, which were long-running. Was the cast changing soon? Any celebrities worth seeing? Who had last-minute rush tickets available? Hours later, I had it-- Finian's Rainbow, a lighthearted comedy musical, just what the doctor ordered. Rush tickets available at the door. It was closing the following week, so it was my last chance to see it. I would walk over after work. Done and done. I also had a creepily extensive pro/con chart of every show on stage that week. I hope I remembered to throw that out.
I barely survived that afternoon, and a new deadline, and left the office just after 6. A quick BBM exchange with Liz on my way out.
I'm leaving, going home. Don't have it in me to see a show. Had a horrible afternoon.
No, she says. Go. You'll feel better. Trust me.
But I don't even have time to go home and change, I tell her. And it's raining.
Just go.
Ok. Fine. I will.
I set out from my office in the cold, January rain, walking west towards Times Square. Earbuds securely in place. Trying to lose myself in the crowds. My destination was West 43rd, to see Finian's Rainbow. One block from the theatre something happened, and I veered north, dangerously off course. Suddenly I had the inexplicable urge to see A View From The Bridge; a serious, dramatic play starring Scarlett Johansson, whom I wasn't particularly fond of. This was NOT what the doctor ordered, but my feet didn't care--On they went, north to 48th Street. We arrived, my feet first with my mind following along close behind, but the show was sold out, left with standing room only. No thanks, I decided, back to my original plan, Finian's Rainbow. See Feet, I thought, I knew you were wrong. Off I went, back south. At 45th Street, it happened again. Back north I went. But why? I arrived at TKTS, a place I loathe. Times Square is awful enough, I only venture there because of my undying love for the theatre, but TKTS? Tourists fighting over discount tickets? Never. Feet, what are you doing?! I stared at the TKTS board for quite a while, looking over the shows. I decided to check on tickets for Next to Normal, which I wanted to see, but it wasn't at the top of my list. And hadn't I already ruled that out earlier in the day? Finian's Rainbow, I was supposed to be there. Now. It was getting late, but I got in line. Tickets were crap and overpriced. I left. I walked three blocks south. I turned around again. This routine was getting old. North again I went. TKTS. Back to the board. Had I missed something? Why was I being drawn back? I hated it here. I had missed nothing. But what about Memphis? Maybe I should see that?
Inexplicably, I got back in line. Fingers crossed that they'd have decent tickets. But then I was pushed from behind, and like a domino, I bumped into a man in front of me. It made me thankful I had my earphones in, otherwise I would have turned around and yelled. Take a deep breath, I thought. But then the man in front of me turned around and said something. I couldn't hear him, so I took off my earphones, wary of what he'd have to say. I don't speak to people in New York, it's an unwritten rule of living here, we don't bother one another unless necessary. But I was at TKTS, surrounded by visitors, so I'd oblige. He was offering me a discount coupon to a local diner, which he had received in line. No thanks, I said. I already had one. I'd been in line before. Twice. He asked what I was in line to see. No going back now, I thought, I have to continue this conversation with the friendly stranger. I replied that I was checking on tickets for Memphis, and he said that he was going to see A View From The Bridge. I quickly told him that it was sold out, standing room only, but he was already speaking to the ticket agent. I checked on Memphis. Crap crap crap.
Off I ran, back south, back to Finian's Rainbow. If I hurried, I could make it there in time. Two blocks south, then an about-face. What on earth? In my heart of hearts, I could not figure out what was drawing me north. Up, down, up, down, up, down...I was starting to create a permanent track on Broadway, dragging my feet south, then hurriedly heading north again and again. Back to the TKTS board. I had this nagging feeling that I was missing something, but that was impossible. I had seen 70% of these shows already. The ones I hadn't seen, I had already ruled out or checked for tickets. I stared at the board for a while, waiting for an epiphany. Nothing happened. I quickly grabbed my iPhone out to check the time. It was 7pm...getting so late. That's it, I thought, now or never. I need to leave. But I lingered, staring at the board. Just then, a man approached me. It took a moment for recognition to sink in, for me to realize it was the same man who had jokingly offered me the discount coupon for the diner. He began to ask me about the shows, saying he couldn't get a ticket to A View From The Bridge. No kidding, I thought. He had an accent, had I noticed that before? Maybe not. We were approached by a TKTS volunteer, and he began to ask questions. He had seen musicals all week, and was looking for a play. I half listened in, while thinking that I really needed to get going...I needed to politely excuse myself and wish him luck. To wish myself luck. He interrupted me mid-thought, asking if I had seen God of Carnage. Why no, I hadn't. In fact, I had spent two weeks in December rushing to the theatre every day after work to try and get tickets before the award-winning cast changed, and each day I left empty handed. I had been DYING to see it. But that was last month, it was a new cast now. This stranger with the accent, (and what a gorgeous accent, where is he from?), he tells me that he is going to check on tickets for it. Ok, I think, but my interest is piqued and I feel homeless for the night, as I'm without a show of my own. Maybe I'll check on tickets for it, too. I get in line behind him, yet sort of with him. I listen as he asks, and yes, there are tickets available, for $70 each. The stranger passes that information on to me, aware that I am listening in on his conversation. I quickly say that I'm going to pass, because I know full well that I can get excellent seats for $20 if I show up to the theatre's box office. But then, the stranger, this beautiful, accented stranger, insists that he's going to buy me a ticket. I politely refuse, what an absurd idea. Who is this guy? Who buys a perfect stranger a $70 theatre ticket? He could be a serial murderer, stalking young female theatre enthusiasts! But my perfect stranger, the beautiful serial killer with the heavy accent is persistent, and insists that he's just looking to do something nice for a stranger. I finally relent...it IS a theatre ticket after all, something I've never been known to turn down. And so there we are, two strangers, one of them with the most amazing accent in the world, headed to the theatre together...
To be continued...
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