Tonight I was all excited as I was given tickets to go see a jazz concert at Massey Hall. The concert itself (Sofie Millman) was excellent. The opening act had one of the best piano players I have ever seen! The acoustics in Massey Hall are absolutely spectacular and it sounds like you are right in the middle of the band no matter where you are sitting. Every single note was crystal clear and perfectly reverberated. There is reason that the hundred plus year old hall is still in use.
That reason is assuredly NOT the gallery seats.
First, you have to schlepp up a million steps to get to the seats, but I knew that and frankly, I can manage. We got to the top with no trouble, and were ready to take our seats. I should mention that a better name for the "Gallery" might be the "Stratosphere" as they are at roughly the equivalent height.
Now, at my size being comfortable in seats can be a bit of an issue. I am slightly worried about when I fly in a couple weeks and how it is all going to work out. But I have NEVER had a situation in which I was so uncomfortable I could not bear it and had to leave.
That being said, it was not just me. My very, very tall and skinny husband was also incredibly uncomfortable. My average sized mother was in incredible amounts of pain. I was just the only one willing to do something rather than just sit there and take it.
In short, the gallery seats at Massey Hall are a abomination against all that is good in this world. Apart from the fact that they are wood and splintering, they are also packed on top of each other so the smell off the smoker next to my husband was killing about 5 of us in any direction. I am also fairly certain that only a prepubescent boy would have enough hip space. Those seats were certainly not meant for adults whose hips have birthed children!
My mother is by no means a tall woman guesstimating her height up to a whopping five foot four inches, but there was not enough room to accommodate her legs. She was forced to spend the entire duration of the concert sitting sideways with her legs in the isle. I got to spend part of the concert watching my six foot tall husband's knees become one with his chin!
As for me, forget it. After spending the first two thirds of the concert in the agony of being squashed between my husband, my mother, and the idiot in front of me bopping to the music and slamming his chair into knee every three seconds, I gave up and sat in the isle. As none of the ushers said a word to me I get the feeling this is a fairly standard occurrence.