Mom came through again with the Broadway tickets. This time, Hamilton. Nobody can get Hamilton tickets! Nobody except my Mom.
Let me clarify. She got two tickets: one for her and one for . . . my younger daughter. The only way to get me a ticket for today’s matinee would require a deep draining of one of our bank accounts.
But, I decided to make the best of things. I went with my daughter by train to meet Mom in NYC. We had a nice French lunch at a place called Un, Deux, Trois, walked for a bit and parted ways.
I made my way over to MOMA, took the elevator to the top floor and slowly meandered through the galleries for a couple of hours until I landed back on the entrance floor, where I did a quick loop through the gift and book shop before making my way back to the theatre district to pick up Mom and Daughter.
While I was waiting for the show to let out, I noticed a few stragglers hanging around the theatre. They sat on the steps, leaned up against the wall, mulled around. Over the next ten minutes, the group of people who didn’t seem to know each other grew steadily to about 35 total.
One of the theatre ushers, just before the show ended, walked over to the crowd and said, “if you’re here for the lottery, you need to make a line behind that barrier” and pointed to the other side of the theatre.
My curiosity piqued. I finally found somebody who explained that before every show, a number of tickets are turned in by people who find they aren’t able to make the performance. The people in the lottery line had all paid $30 in hopes of being one of the randomly chosen recipients of one of the returned tickets. Sometimes there were five or six given away to one of those who put their $30 in the pot, sometimes no tickets.
It was a gamble but if you’re one of the lucky ones you get into the hottest show on Broadway for a mere $30. And you could possibly have the best seats in the house.
I really wanted (still want) to see Hamilton. Had I known, I might have taken the $30 lottery chance today.
After the show, as my daughter and I left my Mom and headed off to spend our last two hours in the city, I told her about the lottery.
“Oh, Mom,” she said. “It would’ve been so worth the risk. It was the best show I’ve ever seen.”
I’m not complaining here. I love the MOMA, but I can’t help but wonder had I fished out those $30, would I have been one of the lucky ones?
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