Saturday, November 19, 2005

John Wilkes Ticket Booth

Here is a story from this blog's Thursday. Consider it a way to blend in with every other blog in the world. On lunch, this site went to the Bradley Center to purchase one of its relatives a birthday gift, tickets to a Milwaukee Bucks game. Keep in mind that this blog usually has to debate whether it's worth putting a dime in a meter down there because it only should take about 6 minutes to get in and get out.

Alright, somewhat rocky start getting down there and not being able to find the Bradley Center (construction has knocked out the 2 exits with the easiest Bradley Center access). But, this site found it. The Bradley Center has a lane near the entrance with 15-minute parking, designed for ticket purchasing patrons. Though none of these 15-minute spots were open, this site actually found a spot on an adjacent road right next to the BC, and when it went to plug the meter, this website found that it had 1:01 left on it. So this was really awesome, free parking. Walked up to the arena, there's one window open, 2 people in line. About normal, maybe not having people in line, but acceptable for 11:30 AM.

The guy behind the window is pretty slow, but not horribly so, and the first person maybe takes 3 minutes to get his tickets, fine. At this point, the 2nd person in line goes up to the window. It's a middle-aged woman, wearing sweatpants, so obviously not working today, and as this blog would soon found out, completely in no hurry.

She goes up to the window, asks if there's any seats left for tonight's Michael Flatley show. Key words: 1. Tonight, 2. Flatley. This, one could let slide though; if you want to go to that show, go for it, and if you want to get seats the day of the show, also fine. The goal if attempting such a stunt is to be discreet though, since you know you will be in line with sports fans that probably don't share your taste in Irish dance.

This woman was not choosing to take the discreet route. In fact, she also chose to forego the sane route. She wanted a seat, for cheap, the day of the show, with a guarantee that no one would be in front of her, blocking her view. Oh yeah, and it had to be close. This, combined with the senile old man behind the counter, collaborated to waste a solid 17 minutes of this website's life. Various topics discussed by the two were: 1. The length of a football field and its relation to her seat. 2. Where the basketball court is in the Bradley Center. (How can you not know where the court is in a stadium!? "It's probably in the northeast corner in this stadium, no need to surround it with seats." Beyond this, you're not going to be watching basketball, so this fact is almost completely irrelevant. Then again, maybe Michael Flatley's Celtic Pride is now a basketball team). 3. The likelihood of a railing being in front of her seat. 4. Who of the crazy unemployed woman, or the guy who does this for a living, is a better judge of a good seat and its sightlines. 5. How hard it is to hear the old man from behind the glass. 6. How she wished she could point to the diagram instead of having the glass obstructing her. 7. Whether or not there is a service charge (Why go to the stadium? Why?)

Now this was mildly amusing for the first 5 minutes, but after that, it really just grated on this blog, because this site literally needed about 25 seconds to place its order, and this dumbass was impeding Pun City. This blog had not previously seen them open up another line during a non-event time, but they actually did. So this blog never did get the honor of having the senile dude "help" it out. And, sure enough, the transaction with the girl that opened a new line took about 45 seconds, including ticket printing and paying by credit card. This blog now honestly believes this woman was some type of alien on a mission to annoy the crap out of the world. At one point late in her discussion, after she asked to see the seating chart for the 4th time, this blog jerked its head skyward in a classic "You've got to be kidding this blog" pose. She must have seen the reflection on the glass, because she turned around and said, "I'm sorry." At that point, no apology was going to undo the 15 minutes of pain this site had endured. Most likely it was only because the line had grown to 4-deep that this blog is not still there. So, according to the 0:44 left on the parking meter, what normally takes about 4 minutes, and could possibly take about 2 minutes; had amazingly taken a whopping 17 minutes, all chewing away at this site's limited lunch hour. Waiting in line for NBA tickets. It's FAN-tastic.


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