I queued for five hours to see Morgan Freeman and it was totally worth it

The story of my ordeal

Morgan Freeman Queuing Union

Morgan Freeman came to the Oxford Union last week. Unsurprisingly, those who wanted to see him had to queue for many, many hours. I was one of those people.

Hour zero (3PM, five hours to go until the talk started): I’m standing on the street outside the gates to the Union. I’m with a couple of people I know, I’ve got some work to do and I’ve got a coat to sit on. It’s not raining, and I’m feeling good. Let’s do this.

Hour one (4PM): I can’t feel my thumbs. It’s quite cold. My ankles are hurting and it’s starting to get dark. At least I’ve got a wall to lean on. Bum’s starting to go numb – this coat I’m sitting on isn’t thick enough. We’ve started playing eye spy. The answer was burglar alarm. We didn’t get it. And suddenly my legs are really cold.

No work has been done yet. I wrote an article about Lee Dixon, to the bemusement of my queue companions. Only four hours to go…

Cold…

Hour two (5PM): Had a burrito, which took some of the cold off. Game of eye spy has trickled to a stop.

I had to find a bin – walked halfway down Cornmarket. Note to Oxford Council: we need more bins. Spoke to the girl next to me, who goes to Brookes. She asked me what my opinion of Brookes was, and if they were stereotyped by Oxford students. Didn’t really have an answer for that…

Still done no work. It’s getting very cold now the sun’s gone down. Three hours to go.

Hour three (6PM): The queue moved! Walking 100 metres up the street was invigorating and gave us some hope. We needed it: it’s raining, and my god it’s cold. The conversation has turned into mutterings of if we will/won’t get in.

In the face of uncertainty, all we can have is hope.

Despair sets in…

Hour four (7PM): Spirits have improved. We’re edging closer to the end of this ordeal. It’s still raining, but I feel slightly warmer. Conversation is more positive.

This hasn’t been as taxing an experience as I expected. It doesn’t feel like I’ve been out on a street for four hours. Although when I say that aloud it’s somewhat depressing.

I’m having a bit of an existential crisis, actually. I’ve got problem sheets and essays to do, friends I could be spending time with, a warm room I could be sleeping in…but I’m sitting on the street. What’s wrong with me? Is there any point to this? What is Freeman even going to talk about?

This isn’t the best time to be having doubts.

So close…

Hour five (8PM): We’re in! Seats are crap, but oh well. At least we shall hear God himself speak. He’s just walking in now…

Afterwards: That was worth it? I think?

He had some interesting stuff to say. Questions were a bit rubbish, and I spent the whole thing precariously balanced standing on a bench, but what does that matter. I have seen Morgan Freeman. All is well with the world.

Can just about make him out…

Verdict: Queuing five hours to see someone speak isn’t very hard, as long as you have stuff to do and bring warm clothes.

But you probably shouldn’t do it unless the person involved is really worth seeing. You will have existential doubts and experience a great deal of boredom. And all the while be wondering why the Union doesn’t just give in and distribute tickets like a normal event would…

Freeman was pretty good. Little anecdotes about him playing a pimp were memorable, and his dry putdowns when the President asked a stupid question were hilarious. Although I got the sense that he didn’t enjoy being there, I certainly enjoyed seeing him. So much so that a five hour queue was just about worth it.