I am a huge Hamilton fan.

Let me clarify. I’m not a casual, that-song-Say-No-To-This-is-kind-of-a-banger fan. I’m not even an avid, I-can-do-that-fast-Lafayette-bit fan. I’m a HUGE fan. The soundtrack has been in my car’s CD player for almost two years straight. I know the names of the original cast members’ children and dogs. I know all the words. All of them. Seriously. Try me.

It feels redundant to try to explain why Hamilton is so great. From when I started drafting this post over a year ago to today, the musical has super-nova exploded and extra-boomed to cataclysmic status in the UK, and it is no longer cool and edgy to know all the words (though, for the record, I knew them before ALL OF YOU LOSERS). Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve heard of it. At the very least, your colleague/son/cat-sitter has played you My Shot. In short, the fact that Hamilton is good is no longer news.

But that doesn’t make me any less excited that in just over 48 hours I will be WATCHING IT IN LONDON FOR REAL.

I’m so excited I don’t know how to function. I can’t tell what my emotions are going to do when the curtain comes up and the orchestra hits that pointed opening motif. My friend went last month and cried for the entire show (i.e. not just in the sad bits. She literally wept from start to finish). Another friend said afterwards, ‘I have no emotions left’. Who knows? Maybe I’ll pass out. I certainly will if Lin makes a surprise appearance.* And what happens if they don’t nail Non-Stop, or if I don’t like Angelica’s voice? How will I ever feel hope again?

Not that I’m putting too much on this. It’s going to be great. It’s going to blow us all away.

See you on the other side.


*Lin, if you’re reading this, this Saturday at 7:30 would be a swell time for your comeback. Thanks I love you bye