The line for the woman’s restroom was so long that it was wrapped around itself in spirals in the lower level of the Broadhurst Theater last night.
At least 100 women waiting for a single restroom.
With ten minutes before showtime, there was no way Elysha, who was at the end of the line, was going to be seated in time for the opening number.
We briefly considered sending her into the men’s room, where one woman was already sheepishly waiting for one of the two stalls. “I might just do that,” Elysha said doubtfully. “Go to your seat. I’ll meet you.”
I headed up the stairs, frustrated. This was Elysha’s Christmas gift. Front row center on the mezzanine level for Jagged Little Pill, the acclaimed musical based upon the Alanis Morissette album of the same name. Now she would miss at least the first 10 minutes while waiting for the restroom.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I spotted an usher organizing playbills on a small table. “Excuse me,” I said. “My wife won’t be able to navigate those stairs. Is there another restroom she could use on this level?”
“Of course,” the usher said and pointed to a single-use restroom designed to accommodate people with disabilities at the top of the stairs. I had walked right by it, just like every other person.
I tested the door. Unlocked. Empty. Huzzah.
Was it specifically designated for someone with a disability?
Yes.
But was it available to anyone without a disability if no person with a disability was waiting?
I think so.
I shot back downstairs. “Elysha!” I shouted. “Come with me!”
“Does he know something?” asked the woman in line behind Elysha who she had already befriended.
“He seems to know something,” she said.
Elysha exited the line, still dozens of women away from the restroom, followed closely by her new friend. As she made it to the top of the stairs, I opened the door to the empty restroom. Her eyes widened. She smiled and entered.
Her new friend took a spot on the wall beside me and fist-bumped me.
“Best husband ever,” she whispered.
A moment later, Elysha exited the restroom. I said goodbye to her new friend as she entered the restroom, and we headed for the mezzanine.
“I’ve never loved you more than I do right now,” Elysha said, which felt amazing at the time, but as I write this now, I can’t help but think…
My surprise marriage proposal at the steps of Grand Central?
Our wedding ceremony?
The birth of our children?
Our honeymoon?
All those times I navigated complex cities in the pre-GPS era without ever getting lost?
I’m kidding. I know what she meant.
But it’s a good reminder:
Saving your spouse with a little bit of quick thinking is a simple path directly to their heart.
Happily, we were seated in plenty of time. Best seats for a Broadway show ever.
Jagged Little Pill is good. Even very good at times. Not great, though. Too many ideas jammed into one show, plus three scenes that fall dreadfully flat.
I’m available for notes if the producers would like to listen. Seriously.
But the show also has one of the most thrilling musical moments in all of Broadway history for me. Truly unforgettable.
Also, I was sitting beside beautiful Elysha for every moment of the show. Beginning to end.
That’s all that really mattered.
