A necessary evil to any Broadway show is the crush of crowds and people in Times Square. It has always been the bane of any NY visit, and when you have any degree of social anxiety, it requires a certain mindset and mental preparation, as well as a fortitude forged out of sheer will and desperation, to successfully navigate without a complete breakdown. When I was younger, I didn’t seem to mind as much, though part of that was being blithely and blissfully unaware of any anxiety issues – the discomfort I may have felt was just something I took in stride, a misunderstanding of my stress level as something that everyone felt.
On this evening, Chris and I took a car to meet Suzie, Tommy and Janet at the Mermaid Oyster Bar for a pre-theater dinner, followed by drinks (and pistachio ice cream for some of us) at the Chatwal Hotel lobby. This has long been a favorite escape from the madness of Times Square, a quiet and largely unfrequented place that has often served as a calm waiting room before or after a show. Mom and I have enjoyed many a cocktail here, and Andy and I also met up with Skip and Sherri after we took in separate matinees (‘Sunset Boulevard’ and ‘Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812’). All meetings here have been magical.
The main reason for this trip was to attend ‘Grey House’ which sounded like something different from the usual Broadway fare, and a darker indication of the times in which we live. I also harbored hopes that it would be as spooky and scary as the mysterious promos made it out to be. (Having been duped before by productions that claimed to be the most “emotionally terrifying” experience I would ever have – ‘A Doll’s House’ will never be that for me – I kept expectations low, and happily ‘Grey House’ surpassed them all. There’s way too much to dissect or digest here, but if you’re looking for a thought-provoking, tense, and somehow still fun evening of theatrical excitement, stop by this creepy abode.
It was a lot to take, and so we stopped for post-show drinks at the Bryant Hotel (which Chris had recommended, but apparently he was thinking of the Nomad) – it didn’t much matter – the place was quiet, dim, and offered an intimate chance to decompress following all the wickedness of the show. We walked Suzie back to her hotel – right near the Port Authority – and then decided to walk to rest of the way to our hotel – no small walk, for no spring chickens, but it was summer, and warm, and it rekindled more youthful days where walking dozens of NY blocks was a goal and end unto itself.
We passed through Hells’ Kitchen – apparently where the gay boys are these days – and paused at a couple of bars. We even poked our heads into one of them before deciding that a slice of pizza and the rest of the walk back would be more than enough entertainment for the remainder of the evening. It was already well past midnight, and it seemed best not to tempt any devilry that might find us out later than it was.
It had been an ideal, and gloriously brief, re-entry into NY and Broadway, healing whatever upsetting memories I’ve held since my last planned trip. It made me want to return again, which is more than what usually happens when I’m at the tail-end of a trip to the city. There was still magic here – maybe there always was and I simply hadn’t given it a chance to reveal itself. Maybe I was just grateful and glad to be alive in the city, spending time with friends, and realizing that however much life had knocked all of us about in the last four years, we could still reconvene and pick up where we left off.
“The soft rush of taxis by him, and laughter, laughters hoarse as a crow’s, incessant and loud, with the rumble of the subways underneath – and over all, the revolutions of light, the growings and recedings of light – light dividing like pearls – forming and reforming in glittering bars and circles and monstrous grotesque figures cut amazingly on the sky.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful and Damned’
