Billy Elliot the Musical was not located in London’s famous West End. It was closer to Victoria Station, in a theater of its own. The over-sized marquee sparkled in the winter evening’s artificial light. I bought one ticket, for myself. I wasn’t going to the theater with anyone else. I preferred it that way. My seat was in the first mezzanine, in the center, but it was obstructed by a brass bar that ran the length of the curved seating area. For the first act, I had to strain to see, or duck my vision between the bar and the balcony. I missed a lot of dancing. For the second act I found an empty seat further back. The show was very good, but I wish I had been sitting further back.
