Some Post-Hamilton Thoughts

The greatest city in the world is obsessed with Hamilton. But, admittedly, I was slow to catch on to the craze.

I only took a real interest in the show after my sister, an ardent American History expert, launched an adamant pro-Hamilton campaign. The end goal was my imminent conversion. Of course, it worked.

All you really have to do to understand the Hamilton obsession is listen to the soundtrack. I was suspicious; after all, my go-to Broadway soundtracks tend to be more along the lines of Les Mis and Phantom of the Opera. But if you give it a chance, that's all it really needs. It speaks for itself.

My sister and I decided to join forces in the name of our shared love of Broadway and take the dive back to 1776 - if we could get tickets, of course.

While the show itself was wonderful, what I noticed while seeing Hamilton tonight was more about the experience of it.

You could tell that people had really traveled from far and wide to get to this show. People were on edge, tripping over each other to be in the right place at the right time (and instagramming like crazy - I was not immune). It reminded me of the experience of a Bryant Park outdoor movie night during the moment before the lawn opens and everyone rushes to stake out their space for their blanket. Everyone had fought for their seats and people really wanted to be there.

It made me think about how Broadway has changed over the years. Now that we have things like the TKTS booth and same-day tickets, New Yorkers can go to a show whenever they want (as long as they're willing to put down a sizable chunk of change).

But was the experience of a Broadway show much more romantic in the old days? Maybe I'm waxing poetic (I am), but this was different than other Broadway experiences I've had. It was delayed gratification incarnate. Something about knowing that almost everyone around you had been waiting for this night for months, everyone gasping when the lights when down, somehow seemed like a moment from a long time ago.