The Standing Room's Guide to the Standing Room

Advance single-show tickets went on sale today for the San Francisco Opera's 2004/05 season—subscriptions have been available for a couple months now—but as usual I was far away from that scene. I prefer to get my tickets by subjecting myself to the masochism that is the Standing Room.

As the SF Opera website describes it, the process for getting standing room tickets is fairly straightforward and seemingly civilized. There are 200 standing room tickets for each show. They go on sale at the box office at 10AM the day of the show. They cost $10 each and you must pay in cash, one per person. Each ticket has a number, corresponding with the order in which you got your ticket.

That evening (or afternoon, if you're seeing a matinee), you go to the Grove Street side of the building. There's a white line with numbers every few yards painted on the ground. Since your tickets are all numbered, you stand in (and, in this case, on) line in numerical order and wait for the door to open at 1 hour and 10 minutes before curtain. The ushers welcome you into the hall and you choose a place at the railing in the back of the hall, directly behind Orchestra Rear. You place your coat over the railing, and go grab a seat for the pending lecture or otherwise go about your business. After the lecture, you return to the railing and settle into your comfortable shoes for a few hours of cheap fun.

In reality, civilization and the diktats of common courtesy are quickly tossed aside in favor of mass hysteria. The morning is the calm before the storm.  The line has usually begun to form by 9:30AM. (1) Some bring folding chairs. Though official policy is one ticket per person, it is sometimes possible to get a pair if you happen to hit one of the loosest slots in town. But come showtime, all bets are off. Some folks do make a pretense of standing in order prior to the door opening. As soon as the usher appears at the glass door, however, a madding crowd suddenly crushes forward. In an Augenblick there is anger and violence. Physical confrontation and accusations, deception and a palpable sense of territoriality.

Yet getting in the glass door is only the first battle of the war. Once inside, the masses literally sprint -- and here I do mean "literally" literally -- for the wooden doors leading into the hall itself*. Sometimes the ushers controlling the glass door and the ones guarding the wooden ones haven't coordinated their watches, and as a result the lunatics trying to break into the asylum have to jockey for places while waiting for the gate to be lifted. It is at this point that I have witnessed a grown man try to claw open a locked door with his stubby fingernails while ushers attempted to pull him away forcibly.

And then without warning, the gatekeeper relents, and this is when the shit truly hits the fan.  I'm talking full-on, body blow! body blow! shoving on the way to the rail. I am certain that people being tripped deliberately is not uncommon. And once you're there, just because someone's put down a claim, doesn't mean that claim will be respected. The scene is just one step removed from people pissing in litte circles around their chosen spot to prevent the other tigers from entering their territory.

Once the delicate equilibrium has been reached, the pulses slowly return to normal as everyone moves to a cushy chair to listen to the speaker, usually a graduate student who could use some cash and a little charisma to boot, play some snippets over the PA system and prattle on a bit. (This is usually when my earbuds go back in.)  And then it's time. We all head back to the rail and the civilized veneer returns, even though everyone is obviously thinking that the guy next door has taken up too much elbow room.

All this for, um... well, yeah, an opera.

I'll leave you with that for now, and address "Why?" another time. Believe it or not, there are some things I'm actually looking forward to seeing.

In the meantime, I'm still listening to Janacek's Cunning Little Vixen, which was the best thing going there last season.

~~~~~~

(1) I myself usually walk up to the Opera House by 9:15AM with the day's opera loaded up on the Device, with the libretto and some breakfast in hand. I cannot deny that the dork hat is ever-looming over my head. Opera days are Muni-only days for me, as my delicate constitution could certainly not take the stress of parking on top of all this standing room bullshit.

* AUG '05 UPDATE: Or you could go all the way to the top of the house, behind balcony rear. Mevrouw H- has been going up there for years, and she says that the numbers there have dwindled dramatically over time. I figure if I'm going to be all the way up there, I may as well pay my $30 and sit my sorry ass down. Plus the chance of being offered, say, a center box seat are nil at the top of the house.