A Mighty Return

The day was March 7, 2020.

I had won a ticket to see Frozen on Broadway, an epic continuation of the winning streak I’d been on. I’d never seen Frozen before and was super excited to see the story translated on stage. I got swept up in the Disney spectacle of it all and left the theatre feeling happy. I greeted the actors at the stage door but was starting to notice a shift. The security was extra ramped up even just from a couple weeks earlier when I’d won the Book of Mormon lottery. “Please put your Playbills out to be signed and do not touch the actors. Please do not ask them to stop for pictures.”

This was the beginning of the end.

Less than a week later, on March 12, 2020, it was announced that Broadway would go dark. All shows were to close their doors immediately while we all waited out Covid without knowing what was actually to come. First the reopening was supposed to be Easter weekend. Then it was pushed to May, June, September, June 2021, and finally September 2021. I think I speak for most of my friends when I say that we didn’t really believe that shows would actually be opening this fall. We bought tickets in the hopes that it would, while constantly worrying that nothing would move forward.

I was skeptical of buying anything. “What will this return look like? Are there safety measures or mandates?” When the first tickets went on sale, no one knew anything yet. It wasn’t until August that they finally said, “Yes you must be vaccinated and show proof.” At this point I had tickets to a show, but it wouldn’t be opening until October 7. I figured it would be ok. I’d watch people from afar, live vicariously through them, and all would be fine. I’d have my chance to get back inside a Broadway theatre.

I started entering lotteries again. It’s the thing to do when you live here and are a theatre fan because if you can manage to get a cheaper ticket to something, it’s beyond worth it. Do I always win? NO! There are so many people entering all of the lotteries that I basically expect to lose. I entered them anyway with the hope that I’d get to see something within those first few days… but nothing was falling in my favor.

I watched as friend after friend, those who live here and those who don’t, post pictures and tag themselves at shows. I’ll be honest… I was jealous. It’s hard not to be. This thing that I love so much, that I’ve loved since I was 7 year old, was taken away from all of us for so long. Now it was back and I was missing out. Now, if I weren’t already battling one of the worst depressions of my life, maybe things would have played out differently, but for the state that I’m in it was hard to watch. I was so happy for my friends that got to enjoy the things and I never wanted to take away their joy. I simply wanted to be a part of it as well.

Then something happened…

While out with friends on Saturday enjoying some free theatre entertainment courtesy of Curtain Up, I received an email. “You’re on standby to win tickets to Lion King!” I nearly jumped out of my seat! What this meant was that if one of the lottery winners did not claim their tickets, the tickets became mine. I sat in eager anticipation as the next hour passed and… BOOM! I won! I paid for the tickets, did a little happy dance in my seat, and waited for the shock to wear off. Once it did and finally hit me that I would actually be back inside a Broadway theatre, it took everything in me not to cry.

It had already been an emotional day as I had been able to see some of my favorite humans give an interview and short performance as part of Curtain Up. If I had just gotten that, I would have been ok. I could have taken that experience and lived in that emotion for a while. I’d still be dealing with the mixed emotions of being both jealous of and happy for my friends, but because my feelings towards the people I got to see Saturday morning are so great and so complex, that could have sustained me.

… but it didn’t need to.

Sunday morning I woke up with anticipation. I knew I was going to a Broadway show for the first time in 18 months, but the full impact didn’t hit me until I was inside… and even more it didn’t didn’t really hit me until the music started. I won’t give a play by play here, but I’ll just say that I sobbed the entire way through Circle of Life. I was overcome with emotion that I simply couldn’t contain it. Saturday I held it in. Sunday I let it out. There is something about live theatre that simply cannot be replaced. You can watch videos or clips or proshots of things. You can watch an adaptation or a bad bootleg, but nothing replaces the feeling and energy of being in a room with the thing. Nothing can replace the exchange between performer and audience. Nowhere else would you hear a little kid yell “ewwwww” when the two main characters start to get close.

There is nothing like live theatre.

I have seen at least one show/musical every year of my life since the age of 7. Boston gets all the best tours, so having access to that always felt so special. When my dad lived in England, I got to see shows on the West End. When I moved here in 2019, I took advantage of being here and saw as much as I could afford (even seeing a certain show starring favorite humans 32 times). It is something that’s always been part of my life and when it was taken away that was really hard. There’s also the added factor of my friends being theatre fans as well. It’s how we bond, it’s what we rant and rave and go crazy for. It’s a place where we can connect even when all of our other passions and interests vary so wildly.

I missed theatre more than I can really even put into words. In a way, it felt like a piece of myself was missing and I wasn’t even fully aware of it until the hole got filled in. As Lin-Manuel Miranda said last week when Hamilton reopened, "I don’t ever want to take live theatre for granted ever again."