I first saw Rent four years ago at the University of Iowa's Hancher Auditorium in Iowa City. I had seen the cast perform "Seasons of Love" on The Rosie O'Donnell Show and at the Daytime Emmys. I had seen the Dateline piece on Jonathan Larson's untimely death. I had read the rave reviews. When I learned that Rent was coming, I knew I had to be a part of it.

I didn't know, necessarily, what it was about or who was in it. I knew it was a Broadway musical. I knew it was about artists in New York. Those things are true. But Rent is about a lot more than that. Rent is about faith and hope and life and love. I'm sure that sounds like a Bible verse, and the show, however risque, is almost like a religious experience. I don't think I truly understood everything the first time around. Part of that has to do with my mother covering my eyes during the 'naughty parts,' and part of it was that I was thirteen.

When Rent came to town this weekend, I wasn't planning to see it. I couldn't abide the automated phone hell that is Ticketmaster, the Broadway Theatre League wouldn't answer their phone and I just didn't feel like trudging downtown in the freezing cold when they'd probably be sold out anyway.

On Friday night, as I sauced and cheesed pizzas, I thought about the magic of that show and the emptiness of my weekend schedule. I had to go see Rent.

It was Saturday morning before I remembered I probably couldn't afford to get tickets. I had forgotten about rush tickets. This is an interesting piece of Rent trivia. The producers traditionally set aside the first two rows of each performance at discounted prices for people who would otherwise be unable to attend the show. These $20 tickets are only available for cash at the box office two hours before showtime. I really had forgotten this, and it was pure luck that I happened to show up at the box office at three minutes after 12 seeking tickets for the 2 p.m. show (after ambling past a friendly girl with spiky hair and various piercings).

Saturday afternoon, 2 p.m. I sat front row center in the concert hall. Roger came out and plugged his guitar into the amp. The show had begun. Before long, Mark was singing, all "December 24th, 9 p.m. eastern standard time, from here on in I shoot without a script." And it sucked me in for the next three hours.

For the uninitiated, Rent is the story of Bohemian artists living in New York City in the 1990s. Mark and Roger are living in an abandoned music factory, and their former roommate, Benjamin Coffin III, who now owns the building, is demanding the past year's rent, which the guys don't have.

Benny wants to turn the building and the lot next door to it into a cyber-arts studio, but Mark's ex-girlfriend Maureen is staging a protest on behalf of the homeless who live in the lot with the help of her new girlfriend and production manager, Joanne. Benny tells the guys they can stay in the building rent-free if they stop Maureen's protest, which they fail to do.

Another storyline follows ex-roommate Tom Collins and his relationship with a drag queen named Angel. Meanwhile, Roger meets a dancer named Mimi, who begs him to take her out for a night on the town. Later, everyone goes to the Life Cafe for a holiday meal.

(One integral thread in the storyline is the fact that many of the characters have AIDS. Roger, Tom Collins, Angel and Mimi all carry the virus and live knowing that every day could be their last. The cast breaks down the fourth wall during "La Vie Boheme," shouting "ACT UP! Fight AIDS!" as a decidedly declarative statement to the audience.)

Act II begins on New Year's Eve, as the guys try to break back into the building. It follows the next year of their lives, including fights and breakups. Angel dies of AIDS. Roger sells his guitar and plans to move to Santa Fe. Roger and Mark have it out with each other and uncover the true motives behind their actions. The final scene is Christmas Eve, one year later, as Mark prepares to screen the film he's shot during the past year and Roger plays his new song for a sick, weak Mimi, who has a near-death experience and sees Angel.

I had such an amazing experience at the Saturday show that I went back again Sunday for more. This time, I was in the front row, stage left, and I got to just sit back and enjoy the acting, especially from the supporting characters. The girl with the solo during "Seasons of Love" can really belt it out. I'm still discovering new things at each show; it's one of those shows where you experience new layers with every performance.

I don't exactly have the best track record in terms of pimping things that I like without coming across as insane or pathetic, so I'm going to quit while I'm ahead.

Except to say this: the best advice I've ever heard about musical theater came from Dana Whitaker, who said, "The trick is, you find the ones without the hoe-downs." There are certainly no hoe-downs in Rent, but if we're not careful, I may just run off and join the touring cast, because in addition to reinventing the American musical, Rent makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I might even make friends with that spiky-haired girl with the piercings.

***

Last Wednesday, I visited the college I'll be attending next year. I have been unconditionally accepted, and it's relatively inexpensive, so all in all it's a good deal. Plus, I'll be living off campus, so that rules. The only downside seems to be the fact that I get lost if I so much as turn around in this town. And it's not that big, so I feel kind of dumb. Good times. I'm going to college! Whoo!

And all I have to do is graduate from high school.