Let's (Not) See The Little Mermaid! (II)

Sunday was the final performance of The Little Mermaid on Broadway, and eff it, I decided I was gonna buy those Standing Room Only tickets and see off Ariel nice and proper.

This is a chronicle of that fateful day.

6:00 a.m. I wake, confused and frightened, as to why my alarm would tell me to get up at such a god-awful hour. Then I remember why and say, "Eff it, I'm going back to bed." Sarah then says something like, "Time to go," and I come to my senses. It's time to go.

6:15-6:45 a.m. It's interesting seeing the few people riding the subway so early on a Sunday morning. A few of them are wearing hospital scrubs. One guy is asleep. We're all tired, and no one seems to have any idea about what's going on.

6:40 a.m. I arrive in Times Square, so empty and peaceful before the tourists wake up. Some deli man is scrubbing down the sidewalk in front of his store, a futile practice I've always found quaint.

6:45 a.m. I arrive at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre. I'm curious about the number of people that'll be waiting. This IS the final performance after all. Jeff had said he'd gotten there at 7:45, A FULL HOUR LATER, and was third in line. I wonder if I'll be so lucky.

There's just one woman there. I'm second in line.

Over three hours to go.

6:45 - 8:00 a.m. I sit on a very uncomfortable standing pipe (I don't want to sit on the damp concrete). I've brought several library books to pass the time, and read Disappearance Diary, an autobiographical manga of the time Hideo Azuma willingly went homeless/left his life as an artist and became a blue-collar worker/checked into a hotel for alcoholism.

It begins with, "This manga has a positive outlook on life, and so it has been made with as much realism removed as possible," which I find amusing.

8:10 a.m. I begin to text Sarah as a way of chronicling my experience. First text: Now they're saying the box office opens at noon... I'm cold and hungry.

Shit. Noon?

Also, I'm just wearing a t-shirt and shorts and haven't eaten in almost 12 hours.

8:52 a.m. I begin to question why i am doing this. There are six people here. Used to be seven.

9:05 a.m. Someone confirmed that the box office opens at noon.

9:28 a.m. Getting colder. Nine people are here now.

9:41 a.m. Right now i want to march around and sing 'Mammal' by they might be giants.

I can't help it. I'm cold and sitting on the pipe is very uncomfortable. I find doing these weird knee-lifts helps, despite making me look crazy.

9:51 a.m. I am cold!

10:00 a.m. And then, finally, the sun burst forth. Daylight. Such a wondrous thing. Hail Apollo!

The street turned into a beautiful, almost movie-like set, glistening with the morning sun. It was really something.

During this time I read A Few Perfect Hours... and Other Stories From Southeast Asia & Central Europe, and enjoy the final story, about the different attitudes toward death between the Balinese and New Yorkers.

It makes me think of Swiper. I'm glad his spirit has been set free. He had a big spirit - big enough to ride on.

I've been sitting here for over three hours and am losing my grip on reality a little.

10:02 a.m. The theatre speakers begin playing a 30-minute spiel about The Little Mermaid. Mostly song selections. This is a good idea for passing tourists, but a bad idea for people trapped in a non-moving line. Rather than getting me psyched, hearing "Part of Your World" several times makes me not want to see the show. It's just too much. And I usually LOVE "Part of Your World."

10:08 a.m. to 10:18 a.m. I text Bethany and tell her (because I'm a liar) that Sarah plays one of Ariel's sisters. She believes me, and I text her that she also understudies as Sebastian. I think she believes this, too, and when I admit that I'm making this up, she says, "Yeah, I was wondering how she could pull that off..." since Sebastian is traditionally played by a black man.

10:29 a.m. Ten of us. The speaker has repeated its spiel once.

During this time I read some of From Hell. The juxtaposition of this book and my mission amuses me.

10:38 a.m. Thirteen people.

10:40 a.m. Fourteen people.

10:54 a.m. Sixteen... Almost at the limit of twenty or so.

I get a grim delight in thinking of the people who show up for tickets but won't be able to get them because they arrived too late. Sucks to be you, suckers!

10:54 a.m. Starting third time the speakers have played.

Apparently I've lost my mastery of the English language.

11:00 a.m. Sarah shows up with a sandwich and a sweater. I had a feeling she'd do this (since she asked me where I was. I just replied "In front of the theater"), and it's good to have company in the last leg of the journey.

12:00 p.m. The box office opens, and we are told there are no Standing Room Only tickets.

Everyone stands, jaw agape, at the unfairness of this situation. We were told there would be SRO tickets, so we did our part. We waited in line (FOR OVER FIVE HOURS). We braved the cold and the damp and the never-ending speakers. We have our money. We did our duty. We deserve tickets.

They disagree. The only alternative is to pay $121 for regular tickets, but I'd barely be willing to pay $25 to see this (in the words of Jeff) "terdfest of a show." I'm not blowing away a lot of funny money that I could spend at Dragon*Con on a 2.5-hour trainwreck.

Angry and confused, I leave Times Square.

RIP, Ariel.