There is a flutter of excitement that floods through my soul each time I take those first steps down a red carpeted aisle of a theater. I feel a swirl of energy cyclones around me – the ghosts of Broadway’s past from the Phantom himself to the modern Elphaba – there is a shared history and anticipatory energy each and every time I am afforded the opportunity to attend a live theater performance. My recent attendance at a production of the musical, The Outsiders, at the Citizens Bank Opera House in Boston was no exception. An already exciting proposition was made even more special by this being Brad’s first attendance at a musical, never mind one that had a live, open caption display.
As a self-appointed Theater Snob, I comfortably marched to my seat in the orchestra section, on the right side of the theater. The Theater Snob inside me balked at not being in orchestra center, but due to the placement of the Open Caption Bar I was relegated to the side rows to have a clear sight line of the device. I pause here to highlight that while I appreciate the provision of the accommodation, my ire rises because while the accommodation is necessary and well-meaning, once again I feel that we are forced to accept “breadcrumbs” for accommodations. We have access, but not equity, considering that we are forced to sit in a certain section of the theater and do not have free choice of seating. Additionally, I am irked by the fact that the seats that provide access simultaneously provide an obstructed view of the stage, thereby ensuring that myself and fellow seat inhabitants are left with barely a snippet of the action happening on stage right. My final point regarding the imbalance between accessibility and equity is that for most performances, the Open Caption Bar is only displayed for one performance of each show run – and that show is on a Saturday at 2:00 p.m. This is yet another example of “good enough” accommodations. If I desire to do a “dinner and a show” on a given weekend evening, I am forced to sacrifice the necessary accommodation for the sake of schedule flexibility.
We settled into our seats, and by good fortune our friends with whom we were dining with post-show had seats directly in front of us which made for a rollicking start of an afternoon and evening filled with lively conversation and dissolution into cackling laughter. My short legs sort of reached the floor while we were grateful for an end seat to allow Brad to fold himself in half and shift his legs into the aisle. I noticed that while the seating was graduated, the Open Caption bar seemed lower than it has been at past performances. This posed a slight challenge for the vertically challenged among us (me). I had to scoot up in my seat a few times for better sight lines and more than once had to crane my neck and prop up a little more to see some of the action on the stage – especially when it was happening higher up on the scaffolded set – to have a complete view. Next time I may have to bring a phonebook to sit on (Are phonebooks still a thing?).
Although my beady little eyes had trouble having a consistent, clear view of the open captions, I am grateful for the extensive preparation that I did in the weeks leading up to the show. I wrote a blog post about what I need to do before I attend live theater, read about it here. I went into the show fully prepared having learned the musical score and all of the lyrics. I have the unique ability to be able to hear a melody once, rarely twice, and am able to recognize and reproduce the music – however poorly. This is due to years of musical training and a genetic predisposition considering my family’s rich history of musicality and performance in all forms. The impressive command of the show content supported my enjoyment of the show because I did not have to rely on the caption device for the bulk of the performance. I did need to reference the caption device for the dialogue portions, but my attention was able to be fully on the signing and incredible dancing happening live before me due to my pre-show homework. This definitely enhanced my overall experience and more than once I was dancing slightly in my seat, my feet itching to be up there on the stage in a full, unleashed, and likely horrific performance against music that had become so familiar.
And now – as we say in show business – “On with the show!” It was, in a word, fantastic. I loved hearing a contemporary musical score that was a welcome deviation from the sweeping arpeggios and long held high notes by stage divas found in most traditional musicals. The composers of The Outsiders had clear reference to a variety of musical influences including early blues rhythms, the likes of Sam Cooke, and traces of the grunge rock movement from the 1990s. There was a tightness to the choreography that is difficult to achieve with ensemble dancing, and I appreciated the nod to the gang dancing styling a la Jerome Robbins from West Side Story. While comparisons could easily be drawn between the two shows, The Outsiders brought forth a frequently absent male vulnerability, emotional honesty, and fragility which was well on display with the character development of the main leads, Johnny and Ponyboy. It was abundantly clear from the first notes why this show won the Tony Award for Best New Musical following its debut in 2024.
As with all great musicals, I fell into the story and was completely transported back to the class division lines of 1967. It was regrettably easy to draw parallels of the events of the show to the unraveling of society that we are witnessing in 2026 with the aggression and miscommunications across divided groups. In spite of this, I was able to thoroughly enjoy the show and immerse myself completely in the magic of live theater. However, I did flinch and jerk in my seat a few times during particularly aggressive scenes of hurled verbal insults and physical aggression. I experienced significant, abject cruelty at the hands of my peers during elementary school. The scars may have faded, but they still smart from time to time, proof that bullying is not a temporary situation. I will address this one day directly, but reserve the right to acknowledge and not further explain the impact that portions of the show had on my resolved but ever present memories of poor treatment by ignorant children.
At the conclusion of the show, with my feet itching to dance and my mind swirling with lyrics longing to be belted out, we had to navigate the crowds to exit the theater and meet our friends at the restaurant. Naturally, being short and scrappy, I was able to move quickly through the crowd towards an exit door. I looked back and spotted Brad’s head popping up amongst the crowd due to his impressive height. He gestured in the direction in which I was headed, and I nodded in the affirmative. I then boldly continued on my quest and exited out through a door that was being held open for me by a kindly gentleman. I have attended a multitude of performances at this venue and am confident in my knowledge of the general area.
Imagine my surprise when I popped out into a back alley. Alone.
My active imagination immediately went to West Side Story and I almost started singing, “When you’re a Jet, you’re a Jet all the way…” because I really felt like I had been dropped onto the set of a revival of one of my favorite shows. I quickly returned to reality and realized that I was lost, Brad was not behind me, and…well…I was in an alley. I stood for a moment, hoping that he would magically appear to escort me to my rightful destination, but no help came. I sent a plea via text and was met with the helpful, “Go to Legal?”, the restaurant at which we had plans to meet.
Undeterred, I began walking. I had no idea where I was or how it related to the final destination per Brad’s text, but I had an adventure along the way nonetheless. I saw a super cool mural that I wish I had longer to peruse. Found an interesting, eclectic bookstore that warrants a future visit. And paused at a restaurant with a name similar to one of my faves up in Maine. I eventually found Legal – and Brad and Raymond and Anthony.
To quote Brad – “Always a story with you!” (And a selfie this time, too).
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