A BROADWAY RUN

I've been running around a lot lately. I know, I know - I'm always running around New York City. But these past few months it's been intentional: I'm training for my first half marathon on November 11th. 

The wonderful thing about long runs is it's taken me places in the city I've never been. I'm always looking for a new, different street to run down. And in my uptown neighborhood of Hamilton Heights, there's no shortage of side streets, avenues, and historic thoroughfares to explore one sneakered step at a time. 

At the corner of 126th Street and Morningside Avenue there sits a brick facade with an awning above: Union African Hair Braiding. I run past this salon every week. One of the stylists is always sitting in a plastic chair out front. From a quick glance as I run past, there's never a shortage of clients. 

I've always wondered what it must be like in there. Just judging from the outside, it looks like another world full of a cultural landscape that I probably won't ever experience up close. Seeing as I now have short hair (high-school-me was clearly a different story...), there's no world in which the short hair I have up top could be braided!

Amidst all of this running, I've also been seeing a lot of shows. Broadway. Off-Broadway. Midtown. Downtown. The fall season of new shows is upon us here in New York City and I'm trying to see as many of them as I can, so I can engage in meaningful conversation with all of you on our Broadway sidewalks. 

At the Samuel J. Friedman Theatre on Broadway, Manhattan Theatre Club is presenting a new play by the incredible Jocelyn Bioh. I loooooooved her School Girls; Or the African Mean Girls Play Off-Broadway in 2017, so I just knew that I would have to snag a ticket to her newest creation. With my girlfriend Leah in tow, we sat down in our velvet seats (with Sara Bareilles just a few seats over!), pulled out our Playbills, and that's when I glanced up at the set. Before me sat what looked to be an exact replica of the African Hair Braiding salon I've been running past each week - but with the "Union" above replaced with "Jaja's". 

Set designers never cease to amaze me. The level of detail they can achieve within four brick walls is astounding. With some wood and paint - and a whole lot of skill and imagination - they're able to transport us. From fantastical lands like Bikini Bottom in Spongebob Squarepants The Musical to small town city council meetings in The Minutes, the possibilities of where they can take us seem endless.

Both of those aforementioned sets were by David Zinn...who also created the sets for Jaja's African Hair Braiding in front of me. The moment the front drop lifted, and that simple glass facade rotated to reveal the interior of the shop, I knew instantly that I would finally get my first glimpse inside of that African braiding salon I'd run past. Jocelyn Bioh's characters burst to life every time they stepped foot through the front door onto the set. They radiated JOY. It's been a long time since I've smiled so much in a theater. 

After the performance Leah and I instantly burst into conversation about what we'd just seen. She mentioned that one of the characters was HER - down to the shoes and, yes, to the hair. She remarked that she felt a connection to these fictional characters that somehow felt real. The Broadway-lover inside of me knew that the "how" of the "somehow" she just mentioned was because of the artists at work: a wigmaster, a propsmaster, a set designer, a playwright, a dialect coach, an actor - and more - all coming together to create real life onstage. 

So, while I know these characters and this African hair braiding salon that has popped up centerstage on 47th Street aren't real, I know in my heart that I'd have a similar experience if I actually stopped running, opened the door to Union Salon on 126th Street, and entered. I'm thankful for theatrical moments like this - and the artists bringing it to life - that allow me to connect to the cultures, the places, and the people that I've only run past and may never get to experience up close in real life.

To me, that's the power of theatre.