My pending visit to New York City has been on my mind and on my tongue for some weeks now. I had numerous people I love ask if I were going to see something on Broadway while in town. Without those kinds of questions, it never would have occurred to me to do so. My Sophomore year in college a group of us went to see The Phantom of the Opera; an experience which nearly cured my curiosity about the theater altogether. However, one bad show does not an entire industry paint. With the advice of Stacey, today I was able to navigate the daunting task of finding a Broadway show.
Stacey is not allowed to visit crowded places, and so I would be alone in this venture. I left her apartment on foot with two hours till show time. Like most of the systems here, the system for buying tickets to shows is smooth and well funded. There is a ticket sales office under the red steps in Times Square where over a dozen uniformed staff stand eager to guide strangers to the system. The TKTS booth sells tickets to day-of performances for half-price. After a brief wait in line I had secured a seat to see Romeo and Juliet, and I still had over an hour to kill before the curtain call.
While mulling about among the near crushing crowd of people in Times Square, I heard a tapping. A high, staccato like a train bell ricocheted down the canyon of skyscrapers toward me as I searched out the sound-maker. There, with a giant Hershey bar looming high behind him, sat the musician. He had been playing his buckets, metal scraps, cast-iron fry pans and Postal Service box before I discovered him. 40 minutes later, when I broke the trance of his cow-bell mimic chime, black-top bouncing ring, tattered hollow-metal rap, and double-time, deep-bucket thump, he was still playing.
albaniacalling 