Reason I Love NYC #4,345,672: Things Happen That Can Only Happen Here

Eleven years ago today, on a Sunday night, I was at The Public to see a new show I knew little about. The theater had called that day to move our seats, leaving two empty rows in from of us. Weird. It was way past curtain time — if you know me, you know I was annoyed.

Then I turned around and saw them walking in: Chelsea, Mr. Chelsea, Bill, Hillary. Along with their entourage, they filed into the seats below me.

That’s the back of their heads in the photo. And the Secret Service agent standing up on the right? He’s the one who caught me when I fell trying to go talk to them at intermission.

The show? Hamilton.

These things don’t happen in other places. I love you, NYC.