Forget Queens Village, Broadway Became My Home at 7 Years Old
I’m insanely lucky that this was my first Broadway Show experience.
I was 7 years old. I saw commercials for it on my grandparent’s tiny 1-foot TV, which lived on their baker’s rack/stand-alone cabinet thing in their dining room. I read advertisements for it in my grandfather’s favorite newspaper.
I wouldn’t shut up about it. A few weeks later, I was on a bus with my Grandma to see it. My first Broadway show! Why I was so intrigued to see this particular one, I didn’t know. All I knew was that there was tap dancing, and I was a tap dancer. Dance was everything to me. I also knew that this Broadway show was a musical, and I loved watching movie musicals with my Grandma.
We lived in Queens, and Grandma decided to take the express bus into the city. It was my first time taking a bus into the greatest city in the world. I didn’t know you could do that. I didn’t know there were nicer buses that specifically took you into Manhattan. I was young, and my family hardly used public transportation. When we did travel into the city, we took the Long Island Railroad.
Grandma and I waited outside the Walbaums (wow, I’m really dating myself here) and Burlington Coat Factory (that one still exists) for what felt like a really long time. I was still single digits, so back then, anything longer than 5 minutes seemed like an eternity.
I remember passing a ginormous cemetery right before we went under the Mid-Town Tunnel. I’m pretty sure this is where my fear of buses tipping over on the highway or bridges originated. I can recall the anxiety crawling up in me as I looked out the window and down at the roads below us. The Long Island Expressway elevates for a bit before you get to Long Island City.
I don’t remember what our stop was. The next moving image engrained in my mind is sitting at The View Restaurant at the top of the Marriot Marquis Hotel in Times Square. The show we had tickets to that afternoon took place at the Marquis theatre just downstairs.
I do remember feeling oh-so-fancy, which then caused me to feel out of place. I was from Queens Village, for goodness sakes, wearing my Payless (also dating myself here) slightly heeled dress shoes paired with an outfit provided by Sears.
A theatre in a hotel was astonishing to me, and here I was eating at an expensive restaurant with people sitting in suits and ties at the tables surrounding me before we were about to see the show in the Marquis theatre downstairs.
Before you ask, I don’t remember what I ate. I was a kid, and knowing me, I probably had chicken fingers and fries. Way to be fancy, Amanda.
After our bellies were full, we descended the escalator. If you’ve ever visited the Marriot in Times Square, you know exactly what I’m talking about. If not, the hotel has massive escalators to get you from floor to floor in tower-like architecture between 45th and 46th street. It’s absolutely beautiful.
We waited in line to go in. The walls of the lobby were filled with posters of musicals that played there. I was in complete awe. Next thing I knew, our tickets were scanned, I was handed a playbill and an usher showed us to our seats.
We sat on the orchestra level in the back left of the house. It wasn’t close, and one of the balcony levels hovered over our heads, obstructing our full view of the stage. I was nervous I wouldn’t get to see anything. I was a small kid.
When the overture started to play, I was bored. It took me a long time (years) to appreciate the art of the overture. But when Sutton Foster stepped out onto the stage with a suitcase in hand, something clicked in me. The audience automatically clapped with excitement, and I was enthralled by it.
Thoroughly Modern Millie captured my heart. I fell in love with the ragtime music, the 1920’s dress - flapper dresses included - and Gavin Creel. I fell in love with love stories while seeing him sing “What Do I Need With Love.” One could argue this is where my attraction to unavailable or emotionally troubled men had its birth.
Snippets of the show live on in my memory bank. They clink with a light, bright, sound like coins falling in a bunch on a tile floor. I remember Sutton’s entrance and the staging of “Not for the Life of Me.” I remember when Millie and Jimmy shared their first kiss.
I remember flashes of lighting design, numerous numbers and costumes, but most of all I remember the musical number that completely stole my heart, “Forget About the Boy.” The tap dancing blew me away. It was right then and there I felt at home. Broadway was home. Forget Queens Village.
I couldn’t wait to tell my Mom about this experience. With the show program book in hand, I sifted through it, showing her every single detail. The album was gifted to me shortly after I saw the show. I was in love, and my grandmother was the one who brought my love and I together.
The CD played in my purple walkman constantly. It came with me on trips and kept me company in the backseat of the family car. It accompanied me when we had a bit of a drive to dinner at a not-so-fancy restaurant. Thoroughly Modern Millie was my best friend, and I wanted to live in the show with every single one of those characters.
Almost a decade later, I got the chance. I played Ms. Flannery in a community theatre production in Flushing, Queens. Being friends with Ms. Flannery meant dancing in the very musical number that stole my heart. The best part about being in “Forget About the Boy” was not only that I played a fantastic character, it was that I got to choreograph it!
Thoroughly Modern Millie was the second show I ever choreographed, and I poured my heart and soul into it, growing and deepening our relationship one step at a time. Thank you, Grandma, for introducing me to the love of my life.
So there’s my first Broaway show story. What a show. Sutton Foster? Gavin Creel (may he rest in peace)? I was one lucky granddaughter. If you liked what you read, sign up for my newsletter here. This way you’ll be the first to know when a new story gets published on the blog. Thanks for reading!