The Hamilton Experience

My most faithful readers may remember that my husband, Dan, and I had tickets to see Hamilton over spring break.

So . . . we began our road-trip-of-a-lifetime to Portland the last week of March. I sat on the passenger side and read the libretto annotations to my husband, Dan, from Hamilton: The Revolution while we listened to the soundtrack.

I chuckled at the music theory and theater allusions; Dan liked the old school hip-hop Lin-Manual Miranda referenced in the book. He put together a playlist of all of the original music quoted in Hamilton . . . for educational purposes.

Dan's Hamilton References Playlist:

1. Pharaoh Monch - Simon Says
2. The Notorious BIG - Juicy
3. The Notorious BIG - Ten Crack Commandments
4. A Tribe Called Quest - Everything Is Fair
5. DMX - Party Up
6. Mobb Deep - Shook Ones Part II

"It should be a good one," Dan said, as the Hamilton album came to a close.

"Whoa, you sound more excited than usual!"
We checked into our hotel, and the clerk asked us the reason for our visit to Portland.

"We're going to see Hamilton."

"That's still going on?" the clerk asked. "It sounded like a lot of guests were here to see it last weekend. I didn't know it was still happening."

How could she not know? It just felt wrong that the whole city hadn't stopped for the show.

Between our arrival in Portland and the night of, I opened the hotel safe about fifty times to make sure the tickets were still there.

"Is it weird that I am kind of nervous?" I asked Dan before we headed to the theater. "What if my expectations are dashed?"

I took the tickets out of safe and gave them to Dan. He shoved them into his pocket.

"Can't you put those somewhere more secure, like zip them in your coat pocket?" I asked him.

"I like to put my hands in my coat pockets while I walk," he said.

"Can't you not do that for a couple of blocks?"

We didn't lose our tickets. They also scanned without any problem (another neurotic Hamilton fear of mine).

The theater was packed. The merch table was blocked by a mob of people. It was impossible to get to the bathroom, and the line for it extended across the entire lobby. I found a second restroom with a shorter line. I heard a girl in the stall next to mine say that she was still processing this whole experience. She still couldn't believe she was at Hamilton.

I could relate.

Our seats were on the third row to the right of the orchestra. We thought we might be on the outer edge, but when we sat down, we glanced at each other, wide-eyed.

"These seats are really good," Dan said.

"Holy shit!" I responded.


Around 7:30, I turned to Dan and said, "What time is it? SHOW TIME!"

Dan rolled his eyes, "You've been waiting until 7:30 to say that, haven't you?"

The show began and . . . Aaron Burr’s mic was dead.

If you know anything about Hamilton, you know that Aaron Burr is kind of important. He is the nemesis, the narrator. He sings some of the best songs. He starts the entire show. Think Judas in Jesus Christ Superstar.

Fun fact: My school sound system also broke down the week before during our elementary school production of The Lion King. I don't feel so bad now.

The theater stopped the show midway through the first scene, and the cast was called offstage. About ten minutes later, the show restarted from the beginning. I ❤ live theater!

We were so close to the stage, we could see the actors spit, a sign of good diction by the way.

"I'm a little nervous I might notice when the actors make a mistake," I whispered to Dan. "I mean, we can see EVERYTHING!"

Of course, the show went off without another hitch.

Audience members audibly responded exactly as expected: “Immigrants, we get the job done!” or "And when I meet Thomas Jefferson, I'm 'a compel him to include women in the sequel!" (Oh wait, that was me hooting and hollering.)

Even Dan surreptitiously rapped along with, “Every action has an equal, opposite reaction . . .” ,

"I did expect more ooh's during the Cabinet Battles," Dan said in the hotel room that night.

"Not everyone's a rap connoisseur, Dan." 

The Sequel 

The second week of April, Dan received an email from the theater in Salt Lake about Hamilton tickets opening up.


That Saturday, I texted my brother and sister-in-law:

"Dan got an email from the theater about tickets to Hamilton opening up in SLC, so . . .

#spontaneous"

"It’s got to be good if Dan is willing to see it twice in less than a month," I added.

"Haha!! That’s honestly what I was thinking!!!" my sister-in-law texted back.

"Don’t tell anyone," I told her, "but he totally sings along during this show."

We saw the same cast, but Jefferson’s understudy took over about halfway through the first act. Why? I don’t know . . . live theater strikes again.

That night, Dan made me list all of the parts I cried at. (He also laughs at me when we listen to the soundtrack in the car, and I full out bawl during the finale.)

Then he admitted he teared up a little when Eliza took Hamilton's hand and forgave him at the end of "It's Quiet Uptown."

Dan shrugged, "Hey, I'm a sensitive guy."

Hamilton Take Two

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