On a recent Friday evening, hundreds of people converged on a block in Midtown Manhattan that was already jammed with tourists, ready for a night out at what appeared to be New York’s hottest club.
This place had everything you would expect — energetic 20-somethings and online reservations that sold out in seconds. But its regulars also shared some decidedly old-fashioned qualities: monastic patience, a willingness to get out and make new friends, and a religious devotion to late-night network television.
Welcome to the “Saturday Night Live” standby ticket line, live from the sidewalk outside Rockefeller Center.
“Saturday Night Live,” which celebrated its 50th anniversary last year and next week will air its 1,000th episode on NBC, has had remarkable staying power. Its fans, too, have impressive stamina.
For most mortals, the “S.N.L.” standby line — a five-hour commitment, in rain or shine (or snow) — is the only way into the show’s 300-seat studio audience, aside from the annual ticket lottery that opens each August. At each “S.N.L.” taping, some seats are set aside for a lucky few winners of that lottery; others are reserved for V.I.P. guests of the show.
For everyone else, there is the standby line rigmarole. It’s a multiday process, which ensures there is always a full house in the studio — and separates casual fans from “S.N.L.” die-hards.
The drama begins on Thursday mornings, when an online reservation system goes live and thousands of people compete for the few hundred standby slots available for both the dress rehearsal and the live show. Your reservation number, if you’re quick enough to snag one, corresponds to your place in the Friday night line, which lasts from the 7 p.m. check-in deadline until just after midnight. At that point, new standby numbers are assigned (since not everyone with a digital reservation number shows up for the Friday line or sticks around until the bitter end).
On Saturday, the standby ticket holders for the dress rehearsal and live show reassemble by their appointed times (6:30 p.m. and 9:45 p.m., respectively) inside 30 Rock, in numbered order, and cross their fingers. While standby tickets are free, the number of standby admissions can vary widely from week to week, so the whole ordeal merely guarantees a chance of getting into the show on Saturday night.
Yet for some “S.N.L.” superfans, that possibility is enough to make Friday night’s standby line an organizing principle of their lives. Christopher Bligh, 49, of Staten Island has been to “S.N.L.” 291 times, including a prepandemic streak of 207 successful standby line stakeouts in a row.
“Making it into the studio, there’s nothing quite like it,” Mr. Bligh explained. “You’re in that studio, you’re part of it.”
But on this particular evening, as the bundled-up “S.N.L.” faithful assembled in front of 30 Rock, Mr. Bligh was not there, and his absence reverberated among his fellow regulars.
“Nothing except for hospitalization would keep him away,” worried Kathlyn Messer, 25, as she settled in for her sixth standby line. (In fact, a prior commitment had forced Mr. Bligh to jump ship that week, he said.)
Ms. Messer was relieved to have pulled a good reservation number for herself that Thursday morning: No. 74 for the dress rehearsal.
But if Thursday’s digital shootout is a blood sport requiring fast Wi-Fi and faster reflexes, Friday night is all about camaraderie. Ms. Messer, who baked chocolate peppermint brownies for her line-mates, said she sometimes comes just to hang out, even when she’s busy Saturday night — “just for the community.” Further down the line, some standby friends were entertaining her terrier, Tulip.
Shortly after 7 p.m., with everyone checked in and properly positioned, the line dug in for the long night ahead. Blankets were spread out; camping chairs were unfolded; hand warmers were shaken to life and shared.
“It feels so old-school, in a way,” said Lainey Graham, 22, who drove in from Pennsylvania for her fourth standby line in three months. “There’s such a neat culture to the line.”
As NBC staff members came around with cups of lentil soup and hot chocolate (gifts from the “S.N.L.” creator and executive producer, Lorne Michaels, and the show), standby liners introduced themselves to their neighbors, swapping “S.N.L.” stories and taking bets on how many times they would be asked by tourists why they were waiting in line. While Ms. Graham (No. 134 for the live show) was optimistic about her chances, she said the Friday night ritual is about more than getting into the studio.
“I have such a deep love for the show and the people that run it,” she said. “At a time when late-night shows are under attack, it’s so important to continue to watch them.”
The line, filled with “S.N.L.” obsessives in their teens and 20s, offers a swift rebuttal to the notion that young people only consume late-night TV through YouTube clips and Instagram reels. But this is no Luddite Club. Ms. Graham’s standby line friends all met through “S.N.L.” Twitter, she said, and then became real-life friends on the pavement outside 30 Rock.
A few steps away, Jonaira South was getting to know Sara Regan, who had an extra standby ticket and had been eager to share it after seeing a desperate plea from Ms. South on TikTok.
Ms. Regan said she had offered it to five people who said no. “And, hell yeah, they said no!” she added, high-fiving Ms. South.
On Reddit, members of a hyperactive “S.N.L.” community regularly discuss whether their standby line numbers are worth waiting in line for — or in some cases, flying in for. Daryl and Abby Sando, two recent converts to the standby line’s charms, have already come up from North Carolina five times this season. (They’ve gotten in three times.) Ben LeBaron, an “S.N.L.” fan from Hawaii, regularly flies in from Honolulu to roll the standby line dice.
Some even brave the line without a confirmed standby spot, ending up at the very back.
“There’s no hurt in trying,” said Penellope Holland, 19, sitting with her two roommates and Tulip the terrier in a puddle of fleece blankets on the sidewalk. “We do it every week. It’s been worth it. You just make so many friends.”
Adrianna Kopytchak, 19, offered a reality check. “Waiting out in the cold, it humbles you,” she said.
But, she noted, as a pedicab driver in a Grinch costume dodged traffic behind her on Sixth Avenue, the people-watching is excellent.
By 9:30 p.m., the temperature had dropped to 33 degrees, but energy levels were still high. Friends took turns thawing out inside 30 Rock, still crowded with tourists clutching bags from F.A.O. Schwartz and the M&M Store. In the lobby, one lucky fan hit standby line pay dirt, crossing paths with Kenan Thompson and scoring a selfie.
For Mr. Thompson, the longest tenured cast member in “S.N.L.” history, the standby line reflects the excitement and unpredictability of the live show — and brings an energy that does not go unnoticed by the cast. “We appreciate it because it’s a gesture from the people letting us know that what we do is a coveted thing,” he said. “The fact that they want to spend their time with us like that — it’s pretty awesome.”
As the clock struck 11 and the temperature dipped below freezing, the line entered a more meditative state. “This is the toughest hour,” someone said.
It used to be tougher. Joy Kruse and Linnéa Eberly, both 25, met on line for the Will Ferrell episode in 2019, back when the standby line lasted until 7 a.m.
“With the old system, you just had to commit,” said Ms. Kruse. She and Ms. Eberly have made it into “S.N.L.” a combined 132 times, once camping out for three nights straight to get into the audience. (Taylor Swift was the musical guest.)
Ms. Kruse conceded that the new system — a pandemic-era change — is more accessible, but the overnight line had its charms. Ms. Eberly said she missed seeing the sun rise.
A few minutes before midnight, the line roused itself for its official raison d’être: the 12:01 a.m. distribution of paper standby cards, bestowing new, lower numbers on each member of the line who had shown up and stuck it out. Before dispersing, they posed for triumphant photos, smiling under the soft neon glow of the NBC marquee.
Tomorrow would bring another line, ending in euphoria for some and heartbreak for others. For now, though, the freezing night air was charged with optimism.
“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience,” said Ms. Messer. “And if you’re quick enough on Thursday morning, you can do it every week.”
The post As They Wait (and Wait) for ‘S.N.L.’ Tickets, These Fans Become Friends appeared first on New York Times.
