What I saw: “Hamilton,” a musical at the Richard Rodgers Theater, on West 46th between 7th and 8th Avenue.
What I wore: black Brooks Brothers no-iron cotton blouse with 3/4-length sleeves, stretch denim capri James jeans, black Puma suede sneakers, short black SmartWool socks, gold Victorian earrings I wore in my wedding, gold bead Tiffany necklace, my grandmother’s square face Longines wristwatch, mascara, excited grin.
What I did beforehand: dropped off my watch for repair, had lunch at Fig & Olive (where I complained they didn’t serve eggs), watched the NYPD herding the excited and disappointed crowd at end of the live lottery in front of the theater, stopped for a pre-theater cocktail at the unexpectedly not inadequate Brasserie Athenée (corner of W 46th and 8th).
Who went with me: the Bacon Provider.
How I got tickets: though I half-heartedly played the Hamilton online lottery a few times, I bought these tickets online, through Ticketmaster’s re-sale option, about a month ago; the price printed on the tickets is $175 (each) for the seats plus $2 handling. I paid about $1100 (each) for the seats, with a $200 fee for handling the re-sale.
Why I saw this show: because everyone made such a big deal about it. I even read Ron Chernow’s book about Hamilton, which inspired the show. I found the book a good read, but ultimately depressing, because our founding fathers made terrible choices.
Where I sat: Front Row, Mezzanine, seat A 2. In my opinion the best place to see this show. (One of the reasons I was willing to spend soooo much money on this show was because these seats were available).
Don’t worry about which cast you see.
The performers are all spectacularly talented.
Things that were sad: our founding fathers were petty, egotistical, adulterous nitwits with anger management issues.
Things that were funny: our founding fathers were petty, egotistical, adulterous nitwits with anger management issues.
Things that were not funny: the show is almost three hours, including a fifteen minute intermission. The Richard Rodgers Theater has narrow public areas that become very congested before and after and during intermission and has howlingly inadequate restrooms. People brought small children to this show, some dressed as horrifying, tiny, be-wigged, tricorned, enlightenment-era patriotic props, as if such cos-play might win a door prize.
What it is: the most important and acclaimed American musical of the past twenty-plus years. Yes, it is as good as they say.
Who should see it: bastards, Americans, students of American history, sisters, fans of American musical theater, rappers, revolutionaries, Federalists, Jeffersonians, duelists.
|They put bee pollen on it.|
What I saw on the way home: we got dinner at the Marshal, a tiny and bustling restaurant offering skillfully prepared, locally-sourced, delicious food on 10th Avenue, near West 45th (reservations recommended). Some of the staff consider us regulars, and when they saw the “Hamilton” programs in our hands, I told them we’d seen it to celebrate because, “We’ve been married 30 fucking years,” which they thought was pretty awesome. So awesome, they surprised us with champagne and dessert at the end of our meal. We may have had the last word, though, with the tip.
How many days after seeing Hamilton does a person get “My Shot” out of their head?
— Hamsteria d’Relish (@hamsterRelish) August 15, 2016