"Don't ask!" the matriarch of the Geller family of Westchester, NY laughs when I inquire what they paid for four tickets to tonight's show. "It's coming from her college fund!" she says as she points at 15-year-old Melanie, who already knows the songs inside and out. The overjoyed teen says that Hamilton makes US history much more interesting and relatable, before cracking herself up for "sounding like a total dork."
Elsewhere on the ticketholder line are Mike and Karlin, vacationers from Tampa, who also refuse to tell me exactly what they paid their third party broker for tonight's show. "It's the thing, right?" Mike jokes, while Karlin admits that she hasn't heard one song from the show. When I warn them that, despite the play being staged at the Richard Rodgers Theatre, the music isn't traditional “show music,” they are undeterred. "We saw 50 Cent!"
Fellow Floridians Ron and Mary are more willing to discuss the issue of ticket brokers, a system about which Lin-Manuel Miranda himself voiced his displeasure in a New York Times op-ed before raising the price of prime seating for the show. "Clearly they are doing very well," Mary says, nodding her head toward the theater, not too concerned with the notion of money not getting to the show's producers. “I don't feel like I was scammed,” Ron says, though still hesitant to give me a precise figure for what he laid out for tonight's gig. "And listen," he adds, glancing at his StubHub printout, "more power to Barney O. for having the foresight to buy tickets over a year ago. He's happy, I'm happy, everyone is happy."