The summer after my junior year in college I spent my last $40 on tickets to Part 2*. I walked from 7th Street and Avenue D, where I was crashing with a friend whose apartment was so dire there were mushrooms growing from the floor underneath my futon, to 48th Street, for the 8:00 show, only to discover when I arrived that the show was at 2:00 instead. Then I walked all the way back.
That is to say, I was consumed by these plays for a long, long time, and that they are interesting textbook material — discovered in libraries by high schoolers — is beyond bizarre.
*Not true, exactly — I had $19 in my checking account, but I could not find an ATM in Manhattan that disbursed money in increments less than $20.
