This wasn’t how I pictured it.

Sweaty and exhausted, bent over a metal picnic table, chocking down a $100-serving of chicken nuggets and fish eggs.

One hour later, I felt a bit dizzy – not from the caviar, but from the dry-ice fog and a contact high courtesy of the out-of-town stoners in the nose bleeds.

Was this the US Open or a rave?

Welcome to the pinnacle of tennis… New York-style.

I knew I’d reached my subway stop on Thursday evening when all the passengers wearing designer watches and handbags stood up to rush for the train doors.

The US Open is a pinnacle of the social and sport calendar for Manhattanites, who normally wouldn’t be caught dead in Queens. Nestled between Labor Day and Fashion Week, the event has become less about set points and more about obnoxious displays, overpriced fanfare, long waits and shockingly bad fan behavior.

Was this the US Open or a rave? Welcome to the pinnacle of tennis… New York-style.

I felt a bit dizzy – not from the caviar, but from the dry-ice fog and a contact high courtesy of the out-of-town stoners in the nose bleeds (Pictured: Author, Claudia Aoraha)

Secure your tennis bracelets. This might be ugly.

As I made my way from the station to the grounds, I realized I was surrounded by never-ending lines – pointing in all directions – full of sweater-over-the-shoulder spectators.

Over a hundred people were lining up for a Honey Deuce, the vodka-based cocktail of the season, adorned with three melon balls which are indeed delicious and sold at splashy bars in the stadium grounds.

But wait an hour for it? It’s not a Pimms, afterall.

I’ve been to six US Opens and one trick I’ve learned is that virtually every bar can make the cocktail – not just the speciality ones with flashy signs.

I carted my crew of friends to the lesser-known Heineken sports bar, where we got served up our drinks immediately.

One of the Open’s most coveted cocktails this year is the Watermelon Slice a sweet blend of Moët & Chandon champagne, watermelon juice and elderflower liqueur.

Thirty-five minutes later and $39 lighter I was looking down at the fluorescent yellow, tennis ball-shaped cup in which it is served.

The piece de resistance was meant to be its watermelon slice garnish. But it had all rather lost its allure by the bartender’s fourth attempt to get the distastefully dry, pre-cut fruit to stay on the rim of the glass.

Over a hundred people were lining up for a Honey Deuce, the vodka-based cocktail of the season, adorned with three melon balls which are indeed delicious and sold at splashy bars in the stadium grounds

Thirty-five minutes later and $39 lighter I was looking down at the fluorescent yellow, tennis ball-shaped cup in which it is served

In the words of my friend, the ‘must have’ beverage it contained, tasted like ‘a watery jolly rancher.’

My next stop was supposed to be culinary highlight of the tournament – Manhattan chicken joint Coqodaq’s hospitality stand.

Forty-five minutes and $200 later, my friend and I were each clutching an orange carton of their coveted nuggets and caviar: six gluten free chicken nuggets, topped with some wilting chives, pickled daikon, crème fraiche and a tin of Petrossian caviar.

Keen to finally try the viral pairing that has become a TikTok trend, I immediately dug in.

I’m no expert, but the caviar sat tasteless on top of the nuggets, which were so incredibly oily they stained the container.

Judging by the deflated looks of everyone else holding the luxurious box, I wasn’t alone in my disappointment.

Time to start the ascent to our seats.

We made out our way to humble row U – about 35 rows from the court – to finally get what we paid for, two nail-biting games of tennis in the women’s semi-finals.

I bought my pre-sale ticket for $130 three-months ago, but if I’d left it to the day of the match that same seat in the dizzy heights of the so-called loge section, would have set me back $850.

But money can’t buy you class, can it? Or, as my friends and I were about to find out, manners.

My next stop was supposed to be culinary highlight of the tournament – Manhattan chicken joint Coqodaq’s hospitality stand

I’m no expert, but the caviar sat tasteless on top of the nuggets, which were so incredibly oily they stained the container

Judging by the deflated looks of everyone else holding the luxurious box, I wasn’t alone in my disappointment

We arrived at our seats only to find that four people had already nabbed them. When I pointed out their mistake, they rudely asserted that they wouldn’t be moved. After much arguing, they finally left, and we took our pew.

All was well as we began chatting to our new neighbors – two older women who had travelled all the way from Chicago.

Full of Midwestern pep, they yakked over the tennis all night long – only stopping for breaks to hit their weed vapes and blow smoke in our direction.

I started to regret fighting so hard for our seats. But we were there for the spectacle.

Belarusian Aryna Sabalenka took on American Jessica Pegula – beating her two sets to one.

You might think that the fans’ focus would fall on the game but perhaps fuelled by those over-priced cocktails, any decorum seemed to have been left at the bar.

Staff shushed the clamorous crowds and worked overtime telling photo-hungry fans, obstructing views from the stands to sit down, as they posed for selfies mid-game.

At one point, a rambunctious fan triggered the ire of hospitality staff when they threw an inflated beach ball from the nosebleeds into one of the suites.

During the change overs the noisy crowd was egged on as strobe lights, more suited to a nightclub, lit up the stadium.

Local disc jockey ‘DJ Trizz,’ blasted pop tunes while dry ice machines pumped fog into the upper levels.

Celebrities there in the crowd, flashed up on the big screen, including everyone’s favorite B-listers, Ludacris and Bobby Flay.

By the time the players were ready to start again, even the ground staff seemed to have forgotten why we were all there. The umpire took to the loudspeaker to tell them to turn off the disco lights.

During the change overs the noisy crowd was egged on as strobe lights, more suited to a nightclub, lit up the stadium.

Celebrities there in the crowd, flashed up on the big screen, including everyone’s favorite C-listers, Ludacris (pictured) and Bobby Flay.

Brooke Williamson and Bobby Flay attend day twelve of the 2025 US Open Tennis on September 4, 2025 in Queens, New York

The second match was between New Jersey-born Amanda Anisimova and Japan’s Naomi Osaka. Meanwhile, attention was elsewhere. For by 10pm, the arena had started emptying out – with entire suites and boxes left vacant.

At midnight I finally took my leave having watched Osaka crash out to Anisimova – not even her good luck Labubu doll, clipped to her kit bag, could save her.

I wandered into the still open Polo Ralph Lauren store to have a quick browse only to find one shell-shocked server standing amid a clutter of scattered and trampled $80 embroidered baseball hats – the remnants of fans’ earlier stampede.

On the walk back to the subway we were heckled by not one, but two bootleg sellers trying to sell the same Polo hats for $10.

Game, set, match.