Box Office Bitch…

Skylight showered me with darkness.

Broadway should provide joy, entertainment and passion.

Passion on stage not at the ticket window.

Yesterday, I encountered some real mother f’ing senior citizens and a total box office bitch.

Time to vent.


I had checked my TKTS App before 1pm and the Tony winning revival of Skylight, starring Bill Nighy and Carey Mulligan, was listed.

It is one of the only shows on Broadway that I haven’t seen.

I headed down to TKTS and was denied…the few half price tickets they had for the matinee were sold.


I rushed over to the John Golden Theatre on 45th Street and there were already 10 Medicare qualifying women ahead of me in line and those bitches were in heat.


They were prowling the roped in area like caged animals. The complaints were streaming from their  silicone enhanced lips. It was a rag tap line and the grey panthers were jockeying for position.

I asked one of the cougars to hold my spot while I inquired about tickets for the evening performance.

The uptight blonde ensconced inside her bulletproof cage ordered me to step away from the window as no tickets can be purchased for future shows until the doors have been closed for the start of the matinee performance.

I quickly asked if there were tickets available for Wednesday night. I would have gladly vacated the jungle.

She brashly informed me that, “Yes, there were a few. Do as I say and step away from the window, NOW!”

I attempted to reclaim my spot except a liver spotted man had invaded the women only shallow pool and he cried foul. I pushed back, but he held his ground. After a few moments, I elbowed him out.

They announced that the matinee was sold-out and everyone left except for two aggressive tourists who kept trying to beat me to the ticket window.

Finally, the dishwater blonde gave the signal and I approached the box office. She could not have been more rude or less helpful.

I started to ask for ticket availability. I uttered maybe two words and that stinker bends down and produces an 8×10 sign and slams the sign up against the glass window. The sign read, “Whisper, performance in progress!”

The crazy lady nestled crudely against my butt couldn’t have even heard me.

I had to turn away and count to 10 or I would have gone ballistic.

She then told me (actually lied) that everything was sold-out through the end of the run. The play ends on June 21st.

I was mad as hell and couldn’t take any more…deep breath…I quelled my anger and systematically let loose, departing the crime scene with my head held high and a self-satisfied smirk on my face.

Skylight had faded to black and I wasn’t seeing red anymore.

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