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When it started, our editor was sitting at the Burgtheater’s last performance before closing. A report from the first district.
One more time just before the closing of the theater. Can you answer for that? The desire for living culture wins. We have tickets to a play at the Burgtheater: “Das Himmelszelt”, a story about a female jury judging a young woman.
9.30 pm: As the second half heads towards the grand finale on stage, I can hear radios. Something like “police” and “barriers”. Have I heard wrong? Is that part of the piece? You never know. A couple of mobile phones light up in the audience. Oh, nothing will be.
10 pm: The performance ends with a bang, it gets dark. Applause. It gets light. Burgtheater boss Martin Kušej takes the stage, alone. Something is not correct. He is aware that the final applause, especially today, must belong to the group, he says. And he would have liked to say something about the crown crisis too, but … He’s clearly struggling to maintain his composure. There were many shots in the first district, the danger had not passed, the Burgtheater had to close the doors according to the instructions of the police. He had just come from the academy theater to tell us. I do not realize everything because I immediately immerse myself in the smartphone. My colleagues have already started the live ticker and are asking for help. I send an email to the newsroom: “I am trapped in the Burgtheater, you have closed the entrances.” So the reception is gone.
10:20 pm: We go to the bar, water is distributed, we drink wine. And another glass immediately. Finally reception again. “You’re good?” Ask friends who have already read about my whereabouts at the “press” prompt. “I am safe,” I write to my family. An elderly couple interrupts the cell phone session. Today they would not have taken his smartphone. Do I already know more? When I answer, I realize how confused I still am. I speak incoherently about a possible hostage-taking in Mariahilfer Strasse. “How, but wasn’t that at Schwedenplatz?” “Are there any dead?”
10:50 pm: Yes, there are dead. People stand at every window and watch the flashing police cars in the ring. Some hug each other tightly. Most of them have resolved their initial paralysis. The staff invites us into the hall. Two young men sit cross-legged on the ground, an older man reprimands them quite indignantly. That is not an art, it is still the Burgtheater after all.
11 pm: Still nothing new, but there is a spontaneous discussion with the public. Many took their wine glasses, including those on stage. What should you do? Actresses say a lot of smart things about women, about how they see the world and how the world sees them. One says she’s already drunk. Director Kušej talks about confinement and freedom. Almost reassuring, this return to the old normality.
11.45 pm: A glass is broken, the performance is over. Kušej asks whoever wants to smoke to come up to him. Happy approval, smokers head to the stage. “I’m not a smoker, but I have a heart for smokers,” said the head of the Burgtheater.
12:15 am: A smoking area has been found, there are buckets of water everywhere on the grand staircase and people smoke in groups. The boss arrives: “Please keep the minimum distance!” A camera crew is filming, and the academy theater is supposed to be evacuated.
12:40 am: The service team defrosts the pretzel. The wine is also there. Now there is talk of seven dead, six crime scenes, and still fugitive perpetrators. Some have already looked for a place to sleep, then the announcement comes: they are all back in the hall. Kušej is on stage, along with a police officer. Now you can go to the subway under police protection. Or stay.
12:55 am: Police everywhere in the ring, the contingent piling up on the Schottentor. Car to car to car. Suddenly I feel sober again. A police officer patiently explains the way home to an elderly woman. A young woman cries on her cell phone.
01:00 am: The last train leaves, unfortunately in the wrong direction. But maybe switch to the U4 at Schottenring? Nothing. An employee leads us to the only open exit.
1:10 am: A whole group is stranded, undecided about the Otto Wagner Schützenhaus. My battery is empty now, but no one can call a taxi anyway. Three ambulances go by at full speed. It’s not exactly reassuring. Anyway we go through the empty alleys of the second district. Others are also on the road, by bicycle, on foot, in pairs. Nobody talks.
1:20 am: A taxi glows in the dark. We stopped. “Order?” “No”. Then another. “Organized?” “No”. The driver takes us anyway. He doesn’t talk much, but he talks about a “great disaster in Vienna.” Ö3 is on, no news, only music. We have to make a big detour to the fifth district. Locks everywhere.
02.00 am: Finally at home. We are exhausted, the tension falls slowly. My friend says, “I don’t understand.” Normally I would say something, but I don’t know what to say either. I sit in front of the laptop and write this text.
