During the shut down, many theatres took the opportunity to renovate.
This is what I was told by my lovely seat neighbor, as we were crammed together in the Neil Simon theatre to see MJ the Musical. I cannot find any information on how many houses actually renovated during that time, or if any did at all, so I have to take her word for it. She was a lovely woman, a native New Yorker raised in the city who had relocated to Pennsylvania, but returned frequently for shows. I asked her about the small seats. As I looked around and witnessed:
* A woman in a wheelchair, relegated to the very back row where her view could easily be obstructed by anyone tall seated in front of her.
* A man of over 6 ' tall, whom I tried to follow back to his seat after intermission to see if he had a collapsible skeleton, but got distracted by my need to relieve my bladder and the impossibly long but fast moving ladies room line. How in The Hell he got into a seat, I still wonder.
*My seat neighbor, a woman about 5' 5" tall and not skinny, who eloquently wedged herself into her seat where she remained during the entire show.
My new friend said "I'll try not to brush thighs with you too much," to which I smiled and told her to relax. We're human sized. These seats are for Smurfs. I said as much to her.
"Yes, when they renovated the theatres during Covid, they just recovered the seats. They did nothing about actually renovating them so people can fit comfortably."
" Right? I'm only 5'7" and I'm wedged in here. How does anyone survive these seats?"
"It's really disappointing," she continued "As a native New Yorker, I know these seats haven't changed since I was a kid. It seems rude not to accommodate real people. Can you imagine, spending $200 a ticket, flying out here from where ever and not being able to even be seated?" She shook her head. "I almost just got a wheelchair seat, " she indicated the free floating chairs in the back row. "But if you're coming from out of town, you don't know those are there. So disappointing."
"I'm pretty well wedged in here," I laughed. Not just my height, which exceeds the Neil Simon theatre's recommended apogee of 5'2", but my weight which is north of 200 and therefore above the recommended 120 pounds for comfort. "Not sure I'm getting up at intermission."
I did manage to un chock block myself at intermission, but I had to wait for the man in front of me to get up, as I needed to use the back of his seat for leverage. My friend remained seated and chatted up the others around her.
We had encountered a similar issue at the Westside theatre for Little Shop Of Horrors, but because it is clearly a much older theatre with no renovations, we just accepted our lot. It was not unlike sitting in the Mayan in Denver. A person with legs that only hinge with one set of knees is challenged to sit, it's much more like a perch. But the real killer is how low the seats are: your entire lower half goes to sleep. It's like that 30 Rock episode when Jack makes such terrible couches that they are sold to the CIA as torture devises. Then there is the lack of width... we were seated in a row with two gentlemen who were both large men: over six feet tall, and over 200 pounds, they were crammed into the tiny seats, right next to one another, and next to us. During the show, I noted two empty seats two rows down from us. At intermission I asked the house crew if we could move so the gentlemen in our row could spread out and be comfortable, as they clearly were not. Remember, The Westside has a mask mandate as well. She graciously let us move, and the gentlemen also expressed their appreciation. And I think it took Jim by surprise that I had no reservations about asking house crew if we could move so that these gentlemen could at least enjoy Act 2 without discomfort.
The Winter Garden was no better, but we somehow scored tickets in the balcony, first row, so we had leg room between us and the railing. Broadway tip: Do That.
The most comfortable seats were at Radio City Music Hall, but the house management was struggling to get all 6,000 of us through security before curtain. They failed. That was the only theatre that required an airportesque security check. The other theatres just had signs out front that said "Please don't bring in a weapon. Thank you."
When I win the lottery and open my Broadway House, I will do so For Everyone. Wheelchairs down front. Seats reasonably wide and not so low that only children can comfortably watch the show. I do not need to make so much money that I make people feel uncomfortable by insisting they fit into cookie cutter seats. It's bad enough that the airlines have crammed so many seats in each row that the bathrooms are now standing room only--great for you men, but for us it's a challenge. Can we stop being so greedy that we make human beings feel bad about themselves? Or is there a conspiracy to starve us all, and the by product is that we'll all fit in the airline seats and Broadway houses...that we can no longer afford. Which is why we're skinny: grocery prices skyrocketed...
Before I go off in another direction, this is my Broadway Seat Report.
Respectfully submitted 13 December, 2022.
Douglas C. Neidermeyer
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