It was Good Friday, so I was home from work and just taking it easy after a day of errands. There was still an hour to go before the evening’s church service. I was on the phone with my daughter, Lana Del Rey was playing in the background, and I was watching the end of the Yankee game while flipping through a magazine in my lap. Multi-tasking at its best.
Suddenly my daughter says, “Titi’s calling me, I’ll call her back in a minute.” I tell her, “Well, that’s weird, she’s with her friends in NYC to see “Evita” tonight!” The next thing I know, my sister is calling me. Worried that something happened to her, I answered the phone. In a rush of words, my sister tells me that she met a couple of ladies who had flown to New York, from Puerto Rico, specifically to see Ricky Martin in “Evita” and they had an extra ticket that could be mine if I could get moving NOW.
Before she said the word ‘now’, I had already stripped my pajama bottom off. By the time I was back on the call with my daughter, I was pulling a sock onto my left foot, and my daughter was telling me to hurry. Unfortunately, I cleaned my room so there were no jeans hanging on the back of a chair, nor shoes on the floor. Precious seconds ticking away. The time was 7:11pm. Curtain goes up at 8:00. Yikes!!
A mad dash straight up a three-block hill and crossing a busy street, against the light, got me on a three-dollar jitney bus to 42nd Street. It took me ten blocks to get my breathing back under control while I swore to get to the gym more diligently. I had my fingers, toes, and eyes crossed as we headed towards the Lincoln Tunnel on a Friday evening. When I saw absolutely no cars waiting to enter the tunnel, I took a picture porque eso no pasa aqui.
Rushing up 9th Ave. in an attempt to avoid the Times Square tourist traffic paid off when I hit 45th St. at 7:55pm (five minutes to spare). It only cost me two hard shoulders; not to worry, I gave one out myself. By 8:03, I was in my seat introducing myself to my new Puerto Rican Fairy Godmothers listening to the details regarding how I came to be with them, instead of one of their family members.
Having been lucky enough to see the version with Patti Lupone and Mandy Patinkin (and having the score memorized) the revival experience was incredible. The pride of seeing Ricky Martin on the Broadway stage once again cannot be described. Luckily I get to do this again in May, when my daughters and I take my mother to see the show.
If you’re waiting for my review, you’ll have to wait while I write it for Being Latino.