How I Can Really Get Hamilton Tickets
The Chicago production of Broadway’s Hamilton has been cursedly unattainable for me to see. I have given up doing the lottery system, which I had previously done for about 5 days in our 7 day week. No avail, alas. As a therapeutic choice, I wrote a pump-up list of how I can really get Hamilton tickets.
Steal a rich white, upper-middle class person’s identity via elaborate yearlong plan.
Sneak in backstage as an ensemble member’s shoe wear assistant.
Pretend to be a part of the set (like a tree) (is there a tree on set) (I HAVE NOT SEEN HAMILTON THE MUSICAL SO I DO NOT KNOW).
Zip-line through the ceiling, do a bunch of acrobatics that are so impressive everyone roots for you to stay in the best seats of the house.
Print a very distracting optical illusion, like one’s from the eye doctor waiting room that is very ironic and cool of eye doctors, to distract the box office patrons as you walk in.
Claim to be an electrician who needs a few hours and an intermission to get the job done.
Use your Asian-looking face to your advantage for once and say “Somebody said they needed a doctor!” while skipping through the line (perform a fake, unauthorized surgery to keep up the façade).
Say you’re the spirit guide for the orchestra pit, or also known as the woodblock player.
Go back in time to be in Lin-Manuel Miranda’s kindergarten class, convince him to have a crush on you, then remind him of that fatal attraction via Twitter, baybeeeee.
Say the Hamlet curse thing on stage at an off-time of the théatre, and then pose as a cleansing witch later that needs to sage the whole stage for a few hours and an intermission.
Do the lottery system everyday and maybe you’ll get lucky.