“I hope that I can maintain what I feel now,” William Shatner said after his historical flight into space. “I don’t want to lose it.” I thought that was a profound thing to say. On one level it speaks of the magnitude of such an impactful event, while simultaneously showing how fleeting every moment can be.
I felt the same way at the end of 2021, albeit not as monumental as while traveling to outer space. A while back I had purchased tickets to see John Cameron Mitchell and his cohort, Stephen Trask, perform a concert version of “Hedwig and the Angry Inch.” I am such a fan of the show that I just bought a handful of tickets without regard to COVID, the fact that it was in Manhattan around New Year’s Eve or even whether I could make it or not.
As the event drew closer, it’s almost as if the universe was telling me not to go. The first obstacle was housing. In late October my husband and I were informed that our landlord in St. Pete would only renew our lease for two months. Theoretically, this would have us moving on the day of the show in NYC.
We started looking for comparable rentals in our area and found that rent prices jumped $900 a month. We decided to change course and look at purchasing. Time wasn’t on our side. We had just three weeks to find a place, make an offer, have it accepted and get through the inspection. If we could do all of that, then we could still make the trip to New York. As fate would have it, and an excellent realtor, we were successful.
The second obstacle was COVID. On Christmas Eve we learned someone in our circle had tested positive for COVID. We did the responsible thing, cancelling dinner plans and masking up around the house to protect everyone and reduce risks. Since it was the holidays, and let’s be honest – Florida, testing didn’t seem likely to happen in time for our trip. We spent some time calling around for at home testing kits, but it was like the Hunger Games out there. I went to a few pop-up tents in Orlando where people were screaming at the technicians who had run out of rapid tests. Sadly, we cancelled our plans and released the hotel we had booked. Although we had received PCR tests, we didn’t see the results coming in time.
I made my way to the West Coast to work out of Watermark’s St. Pete office the day before we would have flown out. I was explaining my disappointment to Managing Editor Ryan Williams-Jent, who after disappearing for 10 minutes reemerged with a box of at home rapid tests as if he was an angel sent directly from the COVID testing gods themselves. I quickly took one test and drove the other to possible patient zero in Orlando. Both were negative. The trip was back on. By the time we arrived in Manhattan we had received our negative PCR tests as well.
I’ve been to New York many times and was lucky enough to have lived there for three years, but this trip seemed different. Everything was going our way. We landed in a nice hotel, got great tickets to see “To Kill A Mockingbird” and “Moulin Rouge” – both very unexpected. We just wandered around and found the most amazing sandwiches and food. It was spectacular (“Moulin Rouge” pun intended).
For the main event, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I knew it would have John Cameron Mitchell and the music to “Hedwig,” but that’s about it. When we walked into the Town Hall theater I could tell right away it was going to be something special. The crowd was so diverse, from senior citizens to middle-aged housewives to young rockers who could not have been alive when “Hedwig” was first released.
The show itself was incredible. The “Hedwig” creators sang the songs I loved so much, but they told the story behind them and the people who made such an impact on their lives. They took this story of strength and love and forgiveness and made it more meaningful.
Before singing “Midnight Radio,” the hit musical’s last song, John Cameron Mitchel dedicated it to his ex who had succumbed to alcoholism. He asked that audience be like his friend, who was kind because he realized everyone had struggles. As the song was in full swing I looked around the theater. The rockers were banging their heads, the middle-aged housewives had tears in their eyes and the senior citizens were tapping their hands to their knees. It felt like we were all one, brought together by peace and kindness in the chaos of blaring guitars and banging drums. I thought to myself, I hope I can maintain this feeling because I certainly don’t want to lose it. I hope we will all choose kindness, realizing we all have struggles.
We strive to bring you a variety of stories, your stories. I hope you enjoy this latest issue.
