Navigating New York City: Springsteen on Broadway and Mom's Time Off

It had been a hectic first day in New York City with the morning ferry ride to the Staten Island to see the Statue of Liberty and the afternoon tour of the 9/11 Museum and Memorial. But the excitement was just beginning. My husband was eager to execute his “surprise drop” for our little boy.

On the walk back to our hotel from the museum, we stopped at the Walter Kerr Theatre, the venue of the Springsteen on Broadway show. My husband pretended he was just checking the posters. We ended up chatting with a nice couple from New Jersey who are avid fans of Bruce Springsteen. They said they did not get picked in the lottery for ticket sales but that they have watched over 20 Springsteen concerts over the years already. They were just there to take pictures in front of the theatre. And during that conversation, my husband couldn’t contain his excitement anymore and revealed to our son that they had tickets for that night’s performance. Oh, how our little boy squealed with delight!

One of Springsteen’s bodyguards came to us. Upon hearing that my boys had tickets, he told us that there’s a special section for ticket holders outside the theatre where they could wait after the concert for The Boss to come out and perhaps get a photo or an autograph before he boards his limousine. He showed us the exact spot.

Springsteen enters and exits the theatre through the front door every night, that’s why the perimeter outside the theatre façade is secured three hours before and after the show. There are two areas that are cordoned off – a bigger one for the ticket holders for the night, and a smaller one for the random fans that choose to wait for Springsteen.

The smaller waiting area gets filled up as early as 8:30 or 9:00 p.m. with fans patiently hoping that their Springsteen posters, album covers, CD covers, books, Broadway playbills from earlier performances, and other memorabilia will get signed that night. 

Mr. Bodyguard shared that The Boss usually greets fans and spends time to sign their stuff at the end of the show (usually between 10 and 10:30 p.m.), unless it is raining, in which case he rushes to his limousine right away (we wouldn’t want Mr. Springsteen to get sick and lose his voice).

He gave my boys a tip. He said that in the past few performances, Mr. Springsteen had been singing “The River” as his final song. He suggested that the moment they hear him sing this, they should go out right away and choose a strategic position inside the big, cordoned area to ensure that they get his photo and autograph as soon as he exits the theatre. There would usually be one or two encore numbers, but other audience members would be heading out the door by then and the cordoned area for ticket holders easily get filled. If they find themselves three rows behind, he said, it would be highly unlikely to get that coveted autograph. “You have to act fast,” he emphasized. We thanked him for his help and told him we’d see him again later.

We went back to our hotel where my boys freshened up and ate their sandwiches then bid me goodbye. Our son reminded his Dad to take the Springsteen book for signing and my husband assured him that it was already in his backpack, along with two CDs.

I was charging my phone and resting my feet. My husband asked what I had planned to do on my “time off” from them.

I told him I might walk around for a bit and maybe go to the ramen place I had set my sights on - Ippudo, which was only a few blocks away on West 51^st, and that I might meet them outside the theatre if I didn’t find anything else interesting to do. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched our son scamper outside beaming with excitement. This was to be their first father-and-son musical bonding moment and our son’s first time to watch a Springsteen concert.

As soon as my feet were okay, I headed out. It was drizzling, but it wasn’t too bad. I reached West 51^st in no time but couldn’t find Ippudo. I wasn’t sure if it was the rain or if I was just distracted. I walked back and forth twice between 8^th and 9^th Avenues but didn’t get any luck. I decided to just try a different Japanese restaurant. There were at least a couple on that street. I looked for one that offered ramen and chose to go to Nippori, an izakaya or Japanese pub akin to an American tavern or a Spanish tapas bar.

Since I was dining alone, I got a seat at the bar and ordered the Samurai Ramen, apparently a new item on their menu. It is a black roasted garlic-infused tonkotsu ramen (Fukuoka-style ramen noodles with cloudy broth made from pork bones boiled for at least eight hours) with various toppings such as chopped white onions, beansprouts, chashu pork (pork belly braised in soy sauce, sake, and mirin sauce), nori (seaweed), black fungus, scallions, and soy-braised boiled egg.

I contemplated on getting a small appetizer plate. They have steamed buns, karaage (fried chicken), gyoza (dumplings), maki, sashimi, sushi, tempura, fried tofu, robata grill items, tataki, tartar, and some soups and salads. But I wasn’t too hungry and I saw that the ramen bowl was quite big, so I just ordered some green tea to go with my meal. I noticed there were a lot of curry items on the menu as well and I later learned that the chef and owner is from Burma. That made sense since Burmese cuisine is comprised of various kinds of curries similar to Thai and Indian cooking, but this chef worked in many different Japanese restaurants in New York and specialized in ramen before starting off on his own. He kept the authenticity of the Japanese ramen by not altering or stylizing it.

Service was prompt and the server left me alone for the most part, which I appreciated because I just wanted some peace and quiet while savouring my soup. The broth was creamy and flavourful, and the ramen was cooked perfectly. But in my mind, I still wanted to find Ippudo…perhaps on another night.

It was still drizzling when I left. It was way too early to go to the theatre but since I didn’t want to go back to the hotel either, I headed out to Times Square and mindlessly did some browsing at the stores -  M&M’s World, Hershey’s Chocolate World, The Disney Store, The Christmas in New York Store, and a couple of souvenir shops. I couldn’t believe the crowds getting baskets of licensed goods at apparently highly discounted deals. But I was not really interested in getting shirts, mugs, socks, and hats with the M&M mascots and the Disney princesses. I was just happy to look around and take some chocolate samples. I wasn’t interested in shopping at the other clothing and accessories stores either, so after hanging around the theatre district and taking some photos of the colourful billboards, I decided to just go to the William Kerr Theatre. The tourist crowd was just a little too chaotic for tired old me.

It was around 9 p.m. when I got there. There were already a handful of fans inside the small, cordoned area. The bodyguard who talked to us that afternoon saw and recognized me. He waved and said, “Are you here for autographs? Sorry, I cannot let you in the big, cordoned area but your husband and son could come here later after the show. You could line up on the other side if you like.” 

I told him I was just there to wait for my boys, but seeing that there was still ample space in the small, cordoned area, I decided to get in. I was waiting anyway, so I might as well. Once full, the security guards closed it off and those that came later were asked to stay across the street.

While waiting, I chatted with this older lady who told me her son and grandson were also watching the show and that she was waiting for them. We both didn’t plan for it, so I had nothing for Springsteen to sign. I told her I would just be taking photos. She had nothing with her either, so she said she’d just do the same.

The lady seemed nice, but I noticed she kept subtly pushing her way towards the front (we were on the second row). There was a guy right in front of us who was occupying a space for three people with his backpack, his framed posters (that I am guessing he was planning to get signed), and a gift pack. He yelled at my lady friend telling her to back off. That wasn’t very nice! He also opened his umbrella when the drizzle turned into light rain and blocked everyone’s view.

There was a Spanish family behind me with whom I briefly spoke. They were from Barcelona and they travelled to NYC specifically to see Springsteen’s show. They watched it the previous night and came back to see him again, take photos, and get their CDs signed. The father was speaking a mix of Castilian Spanish and Catalan to his wife, and I chuckled when I understood him saying how “inconsiderate and stupid” this guy in front was. I gave him a thumbs-up sign and he laughed. Eventually, this guy closed his umbrella but didn’t bother to move all his stuff to give way to others.

I think this guy is the exception to the rule. In general, I was amazed at how disciplined the fans were. There was no pushing, no screaming, and no overtaking. Everyone followed the rules and instructions. Everyone also gave way to other fans.  As soon as they are done with their turn, they exit and let others have theirs.

It’s so different from the fan meet and greets we had in Manila when it could get really crazy. I remember my days as a TV producer.  I had to hire a “crowd control crew,” mostly stunt men and big-bodied guys to help us manage the fans whenever we were filming in a public area, and before and after special events such as concerts and press conferences.

I found it interesting to be on this side of the fence that night. This time, I was one of the fans, not the production team trying to protect the celebrities.

By 9:45 p.m., a father and son came out of the theatre and entered the cordoned area reserved for ticket holders. The show must be ending soon…but there was no sign of my husband and son. A few minutes after, four more people came out. I decided to call my husband to check if they were on their way out, but he wasn’t picking up the phone. I tried texting him, but my message wouldn’t go through. When a big family came out, with one of them in a wheelchair and occupied the entire front row of the cordoned area, I started to get worried. My boys were still in the theatre! If they didn’t go out soon, they wouldn’t be able to get a nice spot. I tried contacting them but to no avail.

The audience crowd slowly trickled in, and pretty soon, it was filled halfway. By the time my boys came out, they were almost at the back row. I knew there was no way for them to get Springsteen’s autograph. My companion’s son had also gone out and came to give his playbill to his mom. It was a smart move because his mom was already in a good position over our side. I was trying to signal to my husband, but since they were at the very back, I couldn’t even catch his face.

The fans outside were already getting excited by that time because Springsteen was coming out anytime. His black limousine was already parked in front, and several bodyguards were already hovering around and directing traffic, along with some NYPD crew.

I got my phone camera ready. From my vantage point, I was pretty sure I would get some good photos and video clips. When Springsteen came out, there was cheering. He went to the ticket holders’ side first, but his wife Patti came to ours. I saw The Boss talking to the little boy who was first on the line. And then he talked to the person on the wheelchair and posed for a picture with the entire family. I thought to myself, “It could have been my husband and son had they gone out earlier and grabbed a front row spot.” Springsteen is known to always put kids and elderly people first. 

And because he spent so much time on that side, he was about to leave and get on the limousine, but the fans from our side screamed and then Patti pulled him over. I was able to take pictures of him and recorded some video clips as he was signing autographs. I was right in front of him!

My lady friend got her playbill signed and she was very happy when she left. Inconsiderate guy in front got his posters signed and even got the chance to give the gift pack to Patti. The Spanish guy was able to shake Springsteen’s hand after he screamed, “Bruce, I came all the way from Barcelona to see you!” He cried hysterically afterwards. I think his wife was able to capture the handshake on her phone. I have never seen anyone get so emotional after having an encounter with his “idol,” not even in the Philippines, where I worked in showbusiness.

When Springsteen and his entourage left, the crowd slowly dispersed. I approached my boys and immediately noticed that our son was in near tears. He was so disappointed that he didn’t get an autograph or the chance to shake Springsteen’s hand.

On our walk back to the hotel, I asked my husband why they didn’t come out sooner. I told him that I had been trying to call him to remind him that he needed to get out. He said, he waited for Springsteen to sing, “The River” because that’s what the bodyguard told us that afternoon. But apparently, The Boss changed the encore and sang a difference song instead. I asked my husband if he didn’t notice that people were already starting to go out during the encore and he should have taken the cue and followed. But my husband, ever the obedient, to-the-rule type of person, insisted he was waiting for “The River.”

I had to explain to him that artists vary their numbers depending on their mood and audience response and that he shouldn’t have taken the bodyguard’s word too seriously because it was a suggestion based on the most recent shows. One must still be vigilant at times like this, observant of what’s going on inside the theatre, and getting a feel of the atmosphere and what the theatregoers are doing. But I had to quickly check myself. I shouldn’t blame my husband. He was, as he said, “following instructions.”

“How was I supposed to know what Springsteen was thinking?” Besides, even if he had wanted to, it was not easy for them to discreetly slip away from their seats for they were right in the middle, and everyone would have seen then leaving. I had to remind myself that between the two of us, I was the one with the entertainment business background and I shouldn’t expect everyone to have this particular type of instinct.

Our son was very quiet as my husband and I argued, but when we got into our hotel room, he burst out crying. My heart was broken. We tried to comfort him as best as we could. I showed him the photos and video clips that I took and promised him that we would try again. We would be in New York City for another two days anyway.

I told myself, “You have a mission to accomplish, Mom!