Rolling the window way up

Each year when it is fall, my corporation holds a drawing for a set of theater tickets. Those tickets are usually to whatever play is showing on broadway at that time. The tickets retail value at about several hundred dollars each, so it’s quite a prize to win. There’s no way I could afford those seats with my salary. When I found out the tickets were going to be for Hamilton, I genuinely wanted them badly. I did not end up winning, of course, but my friend two cubicles down did! He offered to take me with him as his last minute guy. I was so happy for the opportunity to see the play, which was this past Friday night. The tickets included a motorcoach service to and from the theater. A black Hummer arrived to pick us up, precisely thirty minutes before the opening scene. We were staying at a local hotel, only slightly more than two blocks away from the theater. New York blocks are so big! We had to rest in traffic for at least twenty minutes, and the air conditioner was off just about the whole time. So much for VIP service. The driver had the window down, because it was cool outside. The wind was blowing inside the car, for the majority of this trip. When the two of us asked him to adjust the air conditioner, he glared at us darkly, but he finally rolled up the window and turned on the air conditioner, but not before our hair was a mess. And by the time the two of us arrived to the theater, we desperately had to fix our hair. We almost missed the first act, because we were still in the bathroom when the lights started to lower! Thankfully, our seats were up in the balcony, close to the air conditioner vents.

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