Opera is super-popular. Who knew?
I like opera. Really. I've been to see Rigoletto in Central Park last summer, The Magic Flute at the Vienna Opera House, and the Barber of Seville in my high school gymnasium. It's fun, but I don't think I would tell people "I'm an opera fan." How often to do you run into anyone who says that, and who's not like a 60-year-old music professor with an ascot and pocket watch? Not often. So I was surprised to find out last night exactly how many New Yorkers are opera devotees.
It's spring break this week and my friend Liz (aka Lizmonster, reciter of pi to 179 places) asked me if I wanted to go with her to see The Barber of Seville at the Metropolitan Opera House. She'd never been to an opera before and wanted to check it out. So we looked for looked for tickets online and found out a) they're really expensive and b) they're completely sold out. Then we noticed the rush tickets service, where they sell a limited number of unsold tickets two hours before the show for $20.
I called the Met to see if they'd be doing the rush tickets for the Wednesday show, and they were. Then I asked what time I should get there, and the woman said "the show starts at 7:30 and tickets go on sale at 5:30, but people start lining up about two hours before that." Seriously? People wait in line for four hours for opera tickets? Liz and I found that impossible to believe, so we decided we would get there at 5 p.m. and try our luck.
When we arrived at Lincoln Center, everything looked calm. We walked into the lobby and saw the rush ticket window, and there was no one around. Sweet! Then a security guard walked up: "Can I help you folks?" We said we were just going to buy rush tickets, and he rolled his eyes. "Well, the line starts downstairs, but the chances are slim to none that you'll get in at this point."
Downstairs, we found a line stretching all they way through the basement, several people deep, winding around walls and out into the parking garage. It was crazy. The 4,000 seat theater was already sold out, these were the several hundred people on top of that who wanted to get tickets. We stood there for a few minutes before realizing it was pointless. Also, we were way underdressed, judging from the suited and evening-gowned crowd in front of us.
So we bailed. On the way out, Liz asked one group of people how long they'd been waiting and they said they got there at 3 p.m. and there were already 50 people in front of them. Moral of the story -- New Yorkers are every bit as cultured and high-falutin' as they're caricatured to be. Although if you really want people to come to the opera, it helps if it's one they can associate with Bugs Bunny, Seinfeld, and David Letterman.
We ended up seeing The Namesake at the Angelika, which was really good. And movies don't require an all-day commitment to waiting in line.
It's spring break this week and my friend Liz (aka Lizmonster, reciter of pi to 179 places) asked me if I wanted to go with her to see The Barber of Seville at the Metropolitan Opera House. She'd never been to an opera before and wanted to check it out. So we looked for looked for tickets online and found out a) they're really expensive and b) they're completely sold out. Then we noticed the rush tickets service, where they sell a limited number of unsold tickets two hours before the show for $20.
I called the Met to see if they'd be doing the rush tickets for the Wednesday show, and they were. Then I asked what time I should get there, and the woman said "the show starts at 7:30 and tickets go on sale at 5:30, but people start lining up about two hours before that." Seriously? People wait in line for four hours for opera tickets? Liz and I found that impossible to believe, so we decided we would get there at 5 p.m. and try our luck.
When we arrived at Lincoln Center, everything looked calm. We walked into the lobby and saw the rush ticket window, and there was no one around. Sweet! Then a security guard walked up: "Can I help you folks?" We said we were just going to buy rush tickets, and he rolled his eyes. "Well, the line starts downstairs, but the chances are slim to none that you'll get in at this point."
Downstairs, we found a line stretching all they way through the basement, several people deep, winding around walls and out into the parking garage. It was crazy. The 4,000 seat theater was already sold out, these were the several hundred people on top of that who wanted to get tickets. We stood there for a few minutes before realizing it was pointless. Also, we were way underdressed, judging from the suited and evening-gowned crowd in front of us.
So we bailed. On the way out, Liz asked one group of people how long they'd been waiting and they said they got there at 3 p.m. and there were already 50 people in front of them. Moral of the story -- New Yorkers are every bit as cultured and high-falutin' as they're caricatured to be. Although if you really want people to come to the opera, it helps if it's one they can associate with Bugs Bunny, Seinfeld, and David Letterman.
We ended up seeing The Namesake at the Angelika, which was really good. And movies don't require an all-day commitment to waiting in line.
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posted by Ryan Davis | 8:10 AM
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