Reenacting and Regarding Hamilton

As anyone who has viewed social media or awards shows or artistic news of any sort these days knows, Hamilton the musical is pretty much the top nerdmania you can feast upon of late. I myself became obsessed with it early last fall and really couldn't let go of the undying need to attain tickets that are pretty much the Holy Grail of the theatre world. That is to say, it is really easy to buy resell tickets through reputable sites, but only if you have approximately one million-ish dollars. Because I was hellbent and fanatical, I decided that I needed to make it happen when I would be home in the States for my friend's wedding. Because my younger sister is even more obsessed than I, she was the lucky winner of my second ticket. Because we are both ridiculous theatre children who thrive on attention and absurdity, we decided that a trip to good ole Weehawken, NJ was well in order as a first act to our day of performance.

Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr engaged in their famous and fatal duel on a cliff overlooking the Hudson River. Nowadays, there is a lovely walkway adorned with a monument to honor the scene. The weather was spectacular thank goodness, though the drive was painful and trafficky, but at long last Sister and I made it to our destination. Lucky for me, my dear sibling still works in a regional theatre so she was able to attain some fantastically unrealistic wooden gun replicas. She had also gotten a set of Hamilton-Burr shot glasses for Christmas. And as my young theatrically-inclined nephew had a stash of pirate hats under his bed, we basically had all we needed to appropriately reenact the famous duel.

We took our celebratory shots of whiskey, donned our costumes, and were ready to do justice to the quotes we so honored... "I'm not throwing away my shot!"... "He aims his pistol at the sky!"... "Aaaah, aaaah, aaaah." Luckily for us, an obliging couple (more so the gentleman, as the lady seemed thoroughly unamused by our antics) walked past at a key moment and asked if we needed them to take a picture of us. Duh. Sister was Burr. I, of course, was Hamilton... ultimately lying limply on the dirty sidewalks of New Jersey because "everything is legal in New Jersey."

When we set off for our exhausting trip back to Brooklyn, I felt a complete sense of contentment via our ridiculousness. Now to be clear, I do not promote guns, gun violence, duels, or pretty much anything to do with killing people on any real level. I do, however, promote reenactments and being utterly ridiculous with insanely over the top props. 

And so when the time came to actually go see the show on Broadway that evening, I was blissful. We met one of my dear friends from college beforehand, as her husband had so wonderfully bought her a ticket for the same night as us as a Mother's Day gift. We were all seated up in the rear balcony but I have to say that there was not one single person in the audience who didn't seem to be aware of how lucky they were to be there, no matter where they sat. I had also chosen seats overlooking the doorway rather than other people's heads, so had a straight shot of the stage down below. Because I knew the soundtrack oh so well, there were very few surprises in store for me, but the energy of the audience, the talent and vibrancy of the actors, the poignancy of the lyrics, the festivity of the music, and the technical marvels of the stage were just infectious. We were fortunate enough to see all of the original cast (sans Jonathan Groff) and it was worth every penny.

Lights and Little Stars

On Wednesday afternoon, I took the train back to Manhattan for the purpose of an evening with friends, and most importantly, a springtime after-school concert featuring my beloved nephew. Having lived in Paris for a few years now, I think I sort of generally block out the irritating parts of Manhattan in my memory... like the fact that trying to walk down a sidewalk in Midtown during rush hour is painful to the point of agony and it therefore takes one million years to walk from Grand Central Station to 10th Avenue circa West 50th street. So when I stopped at Magnolia Bakery to by myself a banana pudding and my nephew a celebratory cupcake, I soon found that I was hoofing it through swarms of foot traffic and sweating like I was somewhere down south and not in the tristate area.

Happily I made it to my favorite-child-in-the-universe's school with seconds to spare... Precious seconds that allowed me the opportunity to experience one of the greatest performances ever given. Watching children amidst the burgeoning years of creativity dance their hearts out on a stage in front of family and friends is probably one of the most joyous things you could ever do with your time. They are so full of passion and energy, some as shy as wallflowers while others (my darling boy front and center) so revved up and full of genius that they can't help but burst with pride and spazzy dance moves galore. It is a pristine reminder of how important it is to truly live and love out loud.

After a rousing encore, our little family unit went off to celebrate the star performer over burgers and shakes at Schnippers, a Shake Shack-esque establishment without the obnoxious lines and overdone hype. Our little diva soon become rundown with the exhilaration of his weighty performance so Brother and Sister-in-law swept him on home and I went off to meet my friends for the evening.

Way back in the day, when I worked and breathed Midtown Manhattan, I often went to an Irish pub after work with my various restaurant coworkers. One in particular was originally called Harmony, now renamed Emmett O'Lunney's, so I thought it easiest and most convenient to bring my motley crew to a nostalgic rendezvous point. I had NYC friends, college friends, and even a friend from Paris stop by for a drink or two throughout the night. And after most people went home, one of my dearest (and most frustratingly MIA) friends of all time took me for a night cap on the rooftop deck of the Hyatt Hotel in Times Square. Despite my complete revulsion of Times Square almost all of time, the lights and stars of NYC were nothing less than perfection.

Connecticut Capers

One of the hardest things about living abroad is how difficult it is to attend the plethora of milestones that sprinkle our life's layers of ice-cream (...). I've missed weddings, had to wait to see new babies, and can never attend birthday parties. So when I finally get to attend a wedding and it is so conveniently located in the tristate area, I feel so blessed to have the luxury of also being able to visit my family and childhood friends as well.

So I took my relatively hangoverless self from Manhattan to New Haven on Metro North, and one of my sisters picked me up from the station. The next three days were a whirlwind of meetings and outings to try to see all of the beloved folk I so often miss. My first surprise upon landing at my Mother's house in Newington, however, was a new edition to the family... Now there is a dog AND a cat in my childhood home, despite the fact that the largest percentage of us are allergic to dogs and/or cats and nothing about the situation was helpful in balancing out the allergy invasion already wreaking havoc on my body. The good news? Wee 'kitten" was so adorable it basically made up for everything else.

My first night back home was filled with my musical theatre and actor geek friends of yore. I went to spend some time with my goddaughter in the afternoon then her mother drove me to our prescheduled drinks night in good ole West Hartford. We had a lovely night of booze and banter in the way that only true theatre friends know how. This group of crazies knows me so well and makes me laugh so hard, there is never an end to our antics. We try to outshine each other while simultaneously sitting back in supporting roles from our separate spots around the globe. 

I was also fortunate enough to spend an evening with each of my parents and various extended family members. Unlike Christmas, it can be hard to find time to see everyone during a quick trip home, so I did the best I could over dinner and drinks. I also managed to fit in time with two of my dearest friends, one from college and one from high school, and their completely unacquainted though equally adorable new babies. 

The highlight of my suburban spree, however, was a nice afternoon trip to the hospital... for what you may ask? Oh yes, my first mammogram. Let me just say, totally the highlight of my trip. And by highlight I mean supremely uncomfortable physical experience that creates nothing but anxiety. Due to my family history, it was high time I started my annual regime and since I don't quite understand how it all works here in France yet, my mom and my aunt sorted it all out for me in the US. Proactive prevention, ladies. Make it happen. Thankfully for me, all is clear at the moment and I feel proud that I made the effort in the end.

And on that medically inspiring note, I left the 'burbs and headed back to NYC for some profoundly moving artistic experiences... Stay tuned...