I have done some crazy things in my 18 years on this earth, but nothing quite compares to spending 15 hours in line for a single Shakespeare in the Park ticket.
As a new New York City resident, I am eager to do anything and everything the city has to offer. Attending a Shakespeare in the Park production has been at the top of my bucket list for as long as I can remember. With the reopening of the now renovated Delacorte Theater and a star-studded cast performing the “Twelfth Night,” I simply could not resist attempting to see it.
After reading countless articles on how to obtain the free tickets, I realized my best bet was to go to Central Park and join the line at 5 a.m. With that being said, I woke up at 4 a.m., got in my Lyft and was dropped off on the Upper West Side, W 81st St, Central Park entrance.
Stepping out of the vehicle, my backpack full of snacks and books, with a blanket in hand, I was confident in my preparation. But that self-assurance immediately vanished as the woman at the front of the line told me I should call my ride back because there was no way I would get tickets. Apparently, the truly committed had slept there overnight in tents, and the $60 I brought would not buy anyone off.
My stomach dropped, and my heart began to ache. I began to think to myself, had I done it all wrong? Why did the internet lie to me? Despite my inner conflicts, it was 5 a.m. — I barely knew where I was and did not want to spend another $50 on a Lyft without giving it a shot.
At that time, the end of the line snaked all the way down to 85th Street. I read online to form a group, so I struck up a conversation with two random guys, Eric and Chris. I immediately knew I had found my community as, proof of the smallness of the world, Eric’s father used to be a professor at Fordham University, and Chris grew up down the street in the Bronx.
As the park opened at 6 a.m., the line began to move up. The two somewhat strangers and I threw down our blankets where we would sit for the next six hours before ticket distribution at 12 p.m..
I read for a little, but the conversation with Eric and Chris reignited as we made a list of all the quintessential New York experiences and restaurants I should go to. Since it’s a pretty vast city with never-ending things to do, this took up about five hours. Eric’s wife eventually met up with him in line, and we all exchanged laughs and utter shock at the ridiculousness of what we and others behind us were doing.
The theater’s employees, given the near-impossible task of managing the line and answering everyone’s questions, told our section that there was close to a zero percent chance we would get tickets due to the unusual number of people wanting to attend.
The people around me were veterans of the line with 15-30 years of experience, and they were astounded by the lack of tickets available.
Nevertheless, they were popping champagne over breakfast, sleeping on their cots and using their portable restrooms, unfazed by the bleak outlook.
Lack of entertainment was not an issue as a man in Shakespearean style clothing played a lute and another older gentleman committed his entire Saturday morning to playing Broadway tunes on his saxophone.
The line started to move closer to the ticket counter at 12 p.m., but with a half-mile long line ahead, I had serious doubts. With a hundred people in front of me, the announcement came: no more tickets. I am genuinely surprised a riot did not break out.
Eric and Chris deserted me to go about their lives, and suddenly, I had to mourn the loss of my new friends and lack of tickets. But hope was not completely gone, as the standby line was a final resort.
I entered the standby line, which gets the tickets of people who cancel. This left 60 of the most immovable people in front of me. Two girls who already got their tickets urged me to wait. But this meant I would have to stay in line for another six hours.
I was met at a crossroads: did I give up now and go get lunch, or stick it out on the off chance enough people would cancel to give everyone in front of me two tickets and leave me just one? I decided to persevere.
As a believer in divine intervention, I credit God for getting me through those final hours. The weather was spectacular, the nice stranger in line lent me his portable charger, the concession stand had hot dogs and a beautiful oak tree provided shade for a marvelous, albeit well-deserved, nap. By no means did the next hours fly by, but the conditions were superb.
In this new line, I decided not to get so attached to the people sitting around me; at this point, it was every man for himself. When the family of four tried to cut in front of me as the line started to condense, I pushed them off their path, fully prepared to claw my way to the front.
Slowly but surely, people started getting tickets at 7:30 p.m., employees running back and forth to the stand to retrieve the unclaimed tickets and give them to the mob. As we could hear the people cheer inside, we knew that the pre-performance introduction had started. With five people in front of me, they ran out of tickets. Heart pounding, absolutely delirious at this point, I wondered if it really was all for nothing. But then a final set of tickets was rushed to the line, and I received the ultimate prize.
I by no means claim to be a good sport, so when the ticket was placed in my hand, there was nothing stopping me from screaming with joy that my blood, sweat and tears had achieved the unthinkable. I ran through the security check and was hastily led to my seats in the fourth row!
In a smaller outdoor theater like the Delacorte, there really is not a bad seat in the house, but section A, row D, seat 410 was spectacular. The simple stage was lit to a beautiful perfection as I began to watch “Twelfth Night.”
The performance was excellent with Sandra Oh in the role of Viola, Peter Dinklage playing Malvolio and Jesse Tyler Ferguson as Sir Andrew Aguecheek left me starstruck.
The hilariously placed comedic moments were blended perfectly with the serious gut-wrenching drama of the characters’ heartbreak. The actor who played Antonio gave me goosebumps with their forceful performance of pain and suffering upon Sebastian’s rejection. Moses Sumney, who played Feste, has what I can only describe as the voice of an angel. Listening to his heavenly vocals made the wait worth it.
Compared to the line, the play went by in a blur, with a brief unplanned intermission where the police escorted a disruptive woman out of the theater.
The ending was truly spectacular with the full cast coming out for curtain call in grand, colorful gowns, sticking to the play’s theme of challenging gender roles.
In the end, I can only offer up the cliché line that it was more about the journey than the destination. It is hard to find a situation that tests your pure determination, faith and willpower more than a 15-hour-long line. But when I look back, it was about the moments where I could have easily given up and walked away, but instead persisted. People in line doubted me from the moment I got there; those passing by wished me luck as they scoffed at my mission, but I persisted!
If you have a spare day and want to test your capabilities, I recommend marking your calendars for next year’s performance. Going early in the show’s run will give you a better chance of getting tickets and hopefully not make you the last one entering the theater, but I can say it does not hinder the experience.
Shakespeare in the Park is more than just a free ticket to great theater; it is being part of a wonderful community. And next time, I might even bring a tent.
