Bestie and I had been planning a trip to New York for a few months – ever since we heard Daniel Radcliffe would be opening the role of J. Pierrepont Finch in the 50-year revival of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. After some confusion and restructuring of dates, we finally both were approved for a personal day from our respective jobs and bought our tickets to the Big City.
We arrived separately Thursday night and met up outside of a karaoke bar where some of our college friends were participating in Britney night. I made my karaoke debut here – where better than New York – with a duet of Celine Dion’s “It’s All Coming Back To Me Now”, Bestie and my Roadtrip Jam. So you can imagine this correctly, neither of us are particularly strong singers, and we were belting out a deep-lunged Diva while intoxicated. Oh, karaoke.
The plan was to stay out all night, rather than take multiple cab rides to Greenwich Village and back to Broadway, and then wait in line super early for Rush Tickets for How to Succeed… On the surface, the plan sounded awesome. Except I’m a super lightweight who’d had an extremely long day/week/semester, and the Jameson I had on top of two Stella’s and a few Sangria’s did me in. We followed some randar guys we met at the Beer Garden to another bar close by, and it took me everything I had not to pass out and let some other randar take advantage of me. When it became clear I wouldn’t make it the 2ish hours until our planned wait-in-line time, I took a cab back to the super cute but tiny hotel, fought the spins, and passed out, leaving Bestie to fend for herself.
Around quarter to seven, my slumber was broken by the sounds of “mmmbop” and an unknown number, who turned out to be Bestie, calling from the phone of the guy next to her in line. She gave me the guilt trip (rightfully) about my absence, and I threw on clothes, took a cab to Broadway, bought two Vanilla Latte’s, and took my spot on the cold pavement.
The doors didn’t open until precisely 10:00, so we had a few hours of watching the line behind us grow and wishing we had had the foresight to bring books. When the doors finally opened, however, we secured our super-good Rush Tickets for $30 each, which turned out to be in the front row of the audience-right box, giving us a pretty damn good view (though the right side was slightly obstructed, but who cares about the secretary?), and right into the Orchestra Pit, where we would watch Dan prepare for the opening wire-work.
The rest of the day was spent sleeping off Hangovers and nights of sleeplessness, fighting back alcohol-and-colds-from-kiddos-induced nausea, and preparing for dreams to come true. 8:00pm, Bestie and I passed under the bright lights of Broadway and into the Al Hirschfield Theatre, taking our front row seats and preparing for the spectacle. Daniel Radcliffe, aka the boy who IS Harry Potter, was breathing the same air and was within jumping distance. We watched as he harnessed himself up in the Orchestra Pit for the opening, and then sang and danced like I had no idea he could, and the pure comedy and joy spread across all our faces. He was a delight.
After the show, they auctioned off his copy of How to Succeed in Business used as a prop, “full disclosure, it’s actually Machiavelli’s The Prince” for $2000 and was surprisingly funny during the entire event. “Sir, don’t touch your ear like that!”
Waiting to watch the auction we couldn’t hope to participate in (if I’m paying $2000 I better be getting him) cost us a good position at the already-packed barricades, meaning his stage-door exit an hour later meant lots of photos of his backside (not a bad view), but no up-close-and-personal photos or autographs.
No worries, we still had another night. And so we went home to the hotel, planning our next night’s stalking escapade.