I just got back from seeing the Tony Awards live in New York.
(Pause for effect.)
It has been a bucket list item of mine for years, and finally the dream came true. A certain bank of seats is available on Ticketmaster annually; you just have to be ready when they go on sale.
As soon as the tickets were activated, I got online and scanned for the best seats. First mezzanine, second to last section on the left, row D. Sold!
The next step was to set up a WhatsApp group for the four of us: Me, best friend Lynne, and siblings Gabrielle and Dominic. We booked rooms at the Kimpton Era, a stone’s throw from Radio City Music Hall, and were to fly direct on United to Newark on the Saturday; back on Cayman Airways from JFK on the Monday.
My first taste of pure joy happened before we’d even left Cayman. I drove around the newly renovated long-term parking lot at Owen Roberts International Airport. Gone was the quarry-like surface that tested the mettle of every luggage cart shoved, pulled and dragged across it. It was glorious.
After we’d quickly gone through security, we made our way to the new restaurant – Barú Bar & Grill – in the departure lounge. Have to say, it’s a really welcome (and necessary) addition to the landscape.
Immigration in Newark was blessedly empty. We went through, grabbed our bags, and got out to our car and driver in record time. Traffic in Manhattan was the usual, but there was also a heightened energy to the city united in its love of the Knicks basketball team. There were references to the NBA finals everywhere.
The Kimpton Era, located between 5th and 6th streets, has only been open for a short period of time, so it was very sparkly and new. Reception was on the third floor and the bellman, hidden by a pile of our suitcases on his trolley, tried to manoeuvre the load through narrow lift doors as we crammed in beside him.
We each had our own room. I would usually share with Lynne, and so had booked two beds for that reservation, but at the last minute I added an extra room so she could sleep snore-free. As we entered my king room, we realised what a good decision that had turned out to be. Now, we all know NY city hotel rooms tend to be on the small side, but nothing prepared me for this. I could have washed my feet in the shower while sitting on the toilet. The sink was in the hallway. The bed took up so much space, that I had to turn sideways to scooch along the end of it to get to the window.
Very nicely appointed, lovely little touches, free sodas in the mini (MINI) fridge and very comfortable bedding and air-conditioning, but wow. These rooms were not for a couple whose relationship was on shaky ground. They’d almost have to stand in shifts.That night, we had a bite to eat and drinks in the hotel, with all focus on the fact that the next evening, we were going to the Tony’s. (EEEEE!!!!)
On the Sunday, we had to get to Radio City before 6:30pm, and so at 5:30pm we were about ready to leave the hotel. Time for me to make a final check on my Ticketmaster account, so I could have the screen ready for scanning. I opened the app, and for the first time in weeks, it wanted to re-authorise me. Okay, no biggie.
Could I get my iPhone’s Face ID to work? Absolutely not. I smiled; I frowned; I placed the phone in front of me; I pulled it away. Nothing worked. And now I was panicking. Lynne saw me turn ashen.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I can’t get my phone to recognise me,” I said in a voice babbling with stress. “I think it’s the make-up I’m wearing. I’m going to have to go upstairs and wash it all off.”
“I’m sure not,” Lynne said in a soothing tone. “Try your passcode.”
I had now been moving my phone around my face like a crazy person for five minutes, and just when I was about to vigorously wash my face in the nearest sink, I thought I’d try the Ticketmaster website in a last-ditch effort. Thank God – it took me straight to my account and the tickets. The day was saved.
Walking to the venue was interesting. There was a horde of people dressed to the nines moving in different directions along the pavements; like there was a black tie affair somewhere, but none of the guests had the address. It was due to barricades monitored by New York’s finest, trying to corral ticketholders a couple of blocks to the venue entrances. Ballgowns, tuxedos, stilettos and designer bags hoofed it down the pavements until we got to the doors of Radio City. Our tickets were scanned, we went through security, and then we were in the main lobby of the building, a sea of glammed-up humanity before us. It was quite the breathtaking sight.
Mercifully, there were lifts to the mezzanine level, so off we trotted. Then Dominic and I volunteered to get refreshments while Gabs and Lynne headed to the seats. The bar was absolutely rammed; I didn’t need a Champagne that badly. Instead, we headed to self-checkout. Armed with all the research I had done in advance, where attendees of previous Tony’s had warned about making sure we stocked up on snacks and beverages, Dominic and I grabbed armfuls of bottled water, beers, crisps and chocolate. Ha! If necessary, we were set for 24 hours. We made our way to the register, ready to check out, and then a helpful attendant immediately informed us that every drink had to be poured into a plastic cup.
Exsqueeze me?
She said it was because there were cameras filming and concerns about branding. I bought it; Dominic was more suspicious. He thought it was all about bottles turning into serious projectiles if anyone was so inclined.
In the end, we had to leave half our purchases to pick up later, as carrying bunches of brim-filled cups was not that simple. But all concerns about our awkward comestibles fell away when we walked through the doors into the theatre, and we got to see the full spectacle of the room before us. Honestly, it brought a tear.
Our seats were FABULOUS! I was thrilled. We had a perfect view of the stage and screens. It was all glistening and gold, and the atmosphere was electric.
We got settled, the lights went down, and the pre-show began. Some early awards were handed out and speeches made. It tripped along at a good pace with lots of humour, and before we knew it, it was the official start of the primetime awards.
The curtains lifted to reveal host Pink dressed as Peter Pan, spinning from the ceiling and singing … and the night took off from there. The opening ‘Lady Marmalade’ number was amazing, setting the stage for live performances throughout the event from all the nominated musicals, such as ‘Schmigadoon’, ‘Rocky Horror Picture Show’ and ‘Ragtime’. There was an endless cavalcade of stars presenting, including Queen Latifah, Sting, Billy Crystal, Annette Bening, Adrien Brody, Bowen Yang, Bernadette Peters, Paul Rudd, Megan Thee Stallion, Julia Louis-Dreyfus … The celebration of a ‘Chicago’ milestone had Cedric the Entertainer and Jesse Tyler Ferguson hilariously getting into the act, and Josh Gad and Andrew Rannells reprised their ‘Book of Mormon’ roles, much to the delight of the capacity crowd.
We got to see what happened in the commercial breaks, which included the choreographer of the opening number getting A-list stars up to try an impromptu ‘Time Warp’, and the ‘In Memoriam’ tribute sung by Leslie Odom Jr. left not a dry eye in the house.
Lots of online posts had warned about the length of the show, but honestly, it flew by. Our seats were comfortable with plenty of leg room, and the show never ceased to entertain. In a pretty fabulous moment, we realised that the row A in our section was suddenly empty, only to see the people who had been sitting there getting up on stage as part of the ensemble for Best Play winner ‘Liberation’. Wow!
The whole night was magical – more than I could have ever hoped for. We watched in awe as the best of Broadway celebrated in all its pageantry, and were still on a high as we walked into a pizza joint near our hotel to get some ooey, gooey, crispy-crust slices after five hours of packaged snacks.
We flew out of JFK the next morning, leaving the Big Apple for our little rock. Hard to believe we had been in the city less than 48 hours, but they were memories that would last a lifetime.
Sitting at our gate, I finally had the chance to research why I’d had such a problem with my Face ID to open the Ticketmaster App. This is what Google threw back:
“Very heavy drag makeup can cause occasional issues.”
All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up.
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