The Lion King
Just about dead centre in that picture above is a woman in a bright blue top – that’s me, in Times Square after my afternoon at Lion King.
It was very nearly the afternoon that wasn’t . . . I mean, it’s the Wednesday afternoon, 2 o’clock session for a production that’s been running nigh on 15 years. Did I really want to sit in an empty theatre for my Big Broadway Experience? Should I wait until an evening session? Would Saturday night give me an audience sensation that would enhance the onstage experience?
But hey, Wednesday 2pm summoned me and so I rolled up half an hour early to buy my ticket at the box office. I figured I’d go the cheapest, $80.
‘Why Lion King?’ someone asked me.
‘Because it’s my granddaughter’s favourite,’ I replied.
And to be quite frank, I’ve never even seen the movie. What better way to soak it up than through the Broadway spectacular in New York City?
Wednesday, 2pm. The crowd was thick. Particularly with children. I waded through looking for the box office. Sold out. SOLD OUT! On a Wednesday afternoon at 2pm after 15 years?
Good lord, how many people are there in the world!
I was welcome to join the ‘cancellation queue’. I was only third in line, so I did. And 10 minutes before curtains I got my ticket – $142, standard price for cancellation tickets.
What else was I to do? I was here. I had waited. I reasoned I’d only fill the suddenly spare time by shopping. I was five rows from the front.
As the darkness fell and the curtain rose, the power and grace of the stage was stunning, so too the woman whose voice filled the theatre, the animals.
The beauty and majesty of the glorious spirits who created this overwhelmed me and my eyes filled with tears.
And then the show rolled on with the delight of an audience of children applauding and laughing and cooing in all the right places.
And then the closing scene.
The baby elephant.
The monkey sorceress who won the day. I was overwhelmed the children loved her best.
After Lion King I was off for a stroll through the afterwork crowds on Times Square. It was seriously packed. I spiedthe Disney shop, with its storefront changing every few seconds and in honour of Krys and Dylan I went to check it out. Really I was just filling in time before I met my friend Kiera, who lives in the Blue Mountains and is here in New York, and her friend John, who lives in Manhattan, for dinner.
Here’s John at the table when I turned up.
Starting from the right: a glass of milk, a glass of ice tea, a glass of red wine and a glass of water.
My foot, I gotta say, has been killing me these past few days. It’s like a balloon when I get home and last night was no different.
Perhaps it was the massage I had a couple of days ago, when in the final moments of bliss he stretched my foot backwards . . . perhaps it was running for the bus the other day (imagine running with a wooden leg, that was me) . . . perhaps it was keeping up with the late night subway crowd the other night, not wanting to be left lagging, the lame one who strayed from the pack.
I’m back to taking it easy. Going slow. Still bemused that I, of all people, cannot spend my days walking the length and breadth of Manhattan. More than this, it is the energy required to make the most of this wonderful city . . . after four months flat on my back or just about, I just do not have it.
Hey! How’s this for a way to make money.