The Green Witch at Gershwin Theatre

by Igor Freitas (Brazil)

A leap into the unknown USA

It was with teary eyes that I saw the green witch rise above the ground as she belted her anthem of freedom and overcoming limitations. The entire audience cheered loudly and I glanced at my friends to see that one of them was also drying up a tear. I guess everyone needs a lesson on how to defy gravity every now and then. As we left Gershwin Theatre, I proudly stared at the green pin I had won prior to the beginning of the show. In bold letters, it read, “I won the Wicked lottery!” with the broom-riding witch in place of the dot in the letter “I” in the main title. I pinned it to my coat carefully, as I was decided to treasure it as if it were some sort of a medal. I could not believe my luck. Not just because I was able to watch one of the most popular and long-running Broadway shows, one that would usually cost around $150 for the cheapest seat, but also because I was in New York during the busiest – and most expensive – time of the year. As a Brazilian teacher who was living in the U.S thanks to a scholarship, I definitely did not have money to spare, and the story of how I was in the Big Apple during New Year’s week was one in par to how Elphaba finally learned how to fly and rise above her obstacles. I had been living the U.S for over four months, working as a Portuguese Teaching Assistant at the University of Arkansas. I enjoyed the quiet life of the hilly and southern city of Fayetteville, but I was looking forward to exploring the bigger and brighter streets of the land of the Liberty Statue, Empire State Building, Times Square, and more. I remembered that just one year before, during Christmas, I sang with my students the anthem of New York that made Frank Sinatra so recognizable. As he so well put it, I wanted so much “to be a part of it”. One year later and there I was. I was ready. Ready, and a bit scared. The first thing I knew about New York wasn’t any of the hotspots listed, but, rather, how pricey it was. I’ll manage, I thought to myself. I was going to the East Coast for a conference and decided that it made sense to extend my time there to get to finally learn what the fuss was all about in that town. I had to organize my trip back in October, and when December rolled in, I realized that I had committed to stay in that area for over a month with my very limited TA stipend. I had every reason to freak out. Call it luck or destiny, but somehow, I managed to come across an Airbnb ad one week before Christmas for a room in Manhattan. The price? $39 per night. I was dumbfounded. That was much cheaper than I ever dreamed I could find, especially in Manhattan at that time of the year. Without thinking twice, I booked it. It was too good to be true. Indeed, it was. Two days before the trip, the host messaged me trying to extort me an extra $150. It was too late to back down, so I gave in. My only demand was that I would pay once I was safely checked in the room. She agreed, so I went. I had never seen a more millennial room in my life. My host apparently was a blue-haired actress who had a thing for writing positive affirmations on the walls – with permanent marker. She also had a cat whose fur was so fluffy that it simply shed everywhere. I’m still finding cat fur on my clothes to this day. Despite it all, I still was, somehow, in New York City. From an underground bar in Brooklyn to the exuberant galleries at The Met, I was there, and at January 1st, I glanced over the city at the Top of the Rock, feeling as free as the green witch at the Gershwin Theatre. As she put it, “No one is ever gonna bring me down.”