One Short Day In the Emerald City

I must be part leprechaun, 'cause my luck is unbelievable! For the past two days I've been trying to get tickets to Broadway's top selling blockbuster -- Wicked -- through the Gershwin lottery. Ever since RENT started this tradition, most Broadway shows have these so-called 'lotteries' where people can show up on the day of a performance and toss their name in a draw for affordable tickets. In Wicked's case, the winners get front row seats for $26.25 (not bad, considering average tix run about $120).

Unfortunately, since Wicked is by far the most popular show on Broadway, the lottery is notoriously hard to win. They draw thirteen names from well over a hundred people in line. Odds of about one-in-ten.

Well, third time turned out to be my charm.

The process itself is always the same. Everyone lines up outside until a buff little black munchkin comes out and announces that the lottery is about to begin. Five minutes later, another guy sets up a table and golden ticket barrel inside the theater doors (I call this man Mr. Shades, because he always wears the same kickass sunglasses along with his same cool hat, same scruffy beard, and same checkered shirt). Everyone then writes their name on a piece of paper and hand it to Mr. Shades, crossing themselves and sending up tiny prayers. Over the next thirty minutes, we mingle and make friends with fellow fans. I've met some pretty nice folks and some pretty weird crackheads in these crowds, but everyone gets along fine...

Until Mr. Shades returns to announce the winners.

Suddenly everyone claws their way back to the front of the line with violent ferocity. The winners are then declared (when my name was called out second last, I threw my hand up and shouted "finally!") and the thirteen lucky people get to come forward while everyone else shoots them envious, evil glances. Winners even get this super elite button:


But as awesome as winning the lottery was -- as amazing as sitting in Gershwin's front row is -- today's highlight didn't come from the show. It came from a Wicked-related experience, yes, but not the performance itself.

Earlier this week I got a ticket to "Behind the Emerald Curtain", a backstage tour of everything Wicked (can you tell I'm a little bit obsessed?). So early this morning I woke up and headed down to 50th. At the end of the tour, the guides announced that they had a special trivia game. They drew names out of a box and a young boyfriend/girlfriend couple got to go up on stage. The guides then said they had three trivia questions, and if this couple got two out of three of them right, they would win a special Wicked prize.

Question 1: Who played Dorothy in the original Wizard of Oz?
The couple umm'd and uhh'd for a few seconds, then answered Judy Garland.

Easy enough.

Question 2: What is the diameter of the underdeck cogs used to move Wicked's upstage set tracks?
Obviously no one had any clue. But whatever.

For the third question, the guide turned to the girl and said "You're one for one. You need this final correct answer to win the big prize. But this time, why don't we let your boyfriend ask the question?"

Everyone in the audience gasped. The young guy turned to his girlfriend, smiling. Her eyes ballooned open.

The boyfriend said a few rehearsed words, then got down on one knee and pulled out a ring. Center stage. Gershwin theater. Wicked's sets and lights all around, an audience literally on the edge of their seats.

Now THAT'S one hell of a proposal.

And, needless to say, she said yes.