BroadwayGirlNYC: Upgrade Your Broadway Seats

For my birthday in 2007, my friend Ann bought us tickets to see Legally Blonde at the Palace Theatre.  Thrilled, I picked out my best pink dress and favorite silver shoes, and met her on the corner of 47th street and 7th Avenue a few minutes before 8:00.  She pulled the tickets out of her purse, and handed them to the usher -- who said with a smile, "Staircase to your left, and allllllllll the way up."  

Our seats, as it turned out, were in the second-to-the-last row of the upper balcony.  As you may know, the Palace is one of Broadway's biggest theatres; and that balcony sure is a long way up above the stage!  "At least we're not in the very back row," we laughed, as we settled in with our Playbills and binoculars.  But soon after the start of Act I, we found out that we'd have been better off without anyone behind us.

Straight from the heartland of Wisconsin (or so their accents indicated), a pair of middle-aged tourists made the back row of the Palace Theatre their personal living room at that performance.  They crinkled food wrappers and chewed their candy loudly; they talked at full volume, spewing gems like "Oh honey, do you see that little dog? Do you SEE 'im? ADORABLE!" And the husband even kicked off his shoes -- which landed on either side of my purse, tucked nicely under my seat.

"Do you mind keeping your voice down?" I whispered over my shoulder, with my politest smile. All I got back was a puzzled look, as if a piece of their living room furniture had just sprouted a voice box and spoken up.  We rolled our eyes and thanked the Broadway gods that the music of Legally Blonde was upbeat and loud enough to drown out most of their inane conversation.

Still, by the time intermission rolled around, we were beyond frustrated. We had tried every polite way we could think of to instill decorum into our neighbors, but they weren't having it.  "Let's go talk to the usher," Ann remarked, heading toward the vested employee standing a few yards behind us on the aisle.  But I had a different idea.

Surely, the usher in the balcony would have warned Mr. & Mrs. Wisconsin to keep their volume low and and to put back on their footwear, and maybe it would helped.  But I knew there was someone in the theatre who could do even more for us, and I saw the first act's nuisance as our ticket to a much more luxurious second half.

"Grab your purse and follow me," I told Ann, and without asking questions she did.  We trotted down several flights of stairs, all the way to the lobby.  And when we got there, I asked to see the House Manager.

At every Broadway performance, the ushers report to a House Manager or a Head Usher.  In addition to overseeing the house staff, this person is armed with information about which tickets have been sold and what seats have been filled.  At Legally Blonde, I intended to probe the Manager for information, and use it to my advantage.

"How can I help you?" the she asked me when I located the House Manager near the merchandise stand. 

"Well," I told her, "We're sitting upstairs and the people behind us are being really rude.  We've asked them to quiet down several times, but they don't seem to understand that they're interfering with our enjoyment of the performance."

"Do you want me to go upstairs and talk to them?" she asked.  But I had another plan in mind.

"That might work," I responded, "but as I said we've already spoken to them more than once.  I noticed that there were some empty seats in this section" (I gestured toward the right half of the orchestra).  "Do you think we might just save everyone the trip upstairs, and sit here since these seats are empty anyway?"  

She paused for only a tiny moment before saying, "Go ahead.  Have fun." 

Suddenly our balcony seats had been upgraded, thanks to a clueless couple from middle America, to a primo orchestra location.  We tucked our binoculars back into our bags -- we didn't need them any more!

The Legally Blonde adventure is just one of many times I've gotten my seats upgraded at Broadway shows -- and I'm not talking about surreptitiously sneaking into seats I haven't paid for.  No, I'm talking about asking permission -- and having it granted! -- so I end up sitting in a section that's often far closer to the stage than the one I expected.

Sometimes, the question can be asked immediately upon entering the theatre.  (You don't need to ride on the back of a complaint to get upgraded.) Asking for an upgrade is particularly effective if you go to the theatre alone, as I often do.  Here's the speech I use once I identify the person in charge:

"Hi!  I'm here by myself, and I am sitting upstairs.  I know it's a long shot, but I thought you might have a seat down here [in the orchestra] that didn't get sold.  If you do, I'd love to fill it for you."  You'd be surprised how often the Manager tells me, "Let me see what I can do."

The key is to be as friendly and open as you possibly can.  The ushers and managers are incredibly busy, and if you show them the slightest bit of attitude or pushiness, there's no way they're going to want to do you any favors.  But if you start with a huge smile, and let them know through your body language and tone of voice that you'll be the opposite of the aggressive theatre-goers with whom they usually deal, it's surprisingly likely that they'll be refreshed enough to give you the upgrade you desire.

Of course, it doesn't always happen; and rule #2 is to never get mad if they say no.  After all, if you pay for a balcony ticket, you've got to expect to have a balcony seat.  But even if asking nicely works out for you only one time out of every four, that's still a pretty nice deal for a strategy that doesn't cost you a dime.

Don't get upgraded before the start of the show?  You haven't missed your chance.  The easiest way to upgrade at intermission is to do the research yourself -- keep your eyes open for great seats that stay empty during the entire first act.  While many shows offer late seating (meaning it's a bad idea to sneak up a few rows, in case the owners of those seats arrive after the performance has begun), it's generally considered okay to move into empty seats during a regulated break in the action.  

Some audience members might make a run for the seats and claim them like lost property, but I've found it always works better to get permission.  Another speech:

"Hi! I noticed that there are a couple of empty seats up front. I've got a tall guy blocking my view; do you think I could move to those ones for the second act?"  They almost always say yes.

Unless I've won a front row ticket lottery, I always try to upgrade my seats.  Why not?  It's free and it's easy and sometimes they say yes.

Viva la Broadway upgrade!