Well done, Concert Board: I love Passion Pit. So too, it seems, does 85 percent of the student body, which would explain why I'm sitting in a line that stretches from the Mayer Campus Center past the Crafts House, listening to someone with the worst Spanish 1 accent in the world. No, adding an "o" to the end of a word does not make it Spanish−o. It's Wednesday morning, and I'm awake significantly earlier than I want to be. At least this justifies my skipping class today.
The Office for Campus Life (OCL) seriously needs to address this line b−−−−−−− stat — anyone who grabbed a Fall Ball or Senior Pub Night ticket knows exactly what I mean. Usually I wouldn't give a damn because I'd walk up to a friend at the front and post up. But today, the overachievers are MIA, and I'm jammed between Miss South Carolina's less attractive, Spanish−speaking sister and someone who must be sponsored by Axe.
Look, a little while ago this crazy thing called the Internet was invented. Ask Al Gore about it. It's a wonderful tool of convenience. With the touch of a button I can order Andrea's while simultaneously watching my Miami Dolphins and Sasha Grey take a pounding. Welcome to the 21st century. And you're saying there is no way to streamline the ticket process.
Imagine if we could roll out of bed, click a mouse, have a ticket and go back to sleeping through class. And if we needed to go pick up tickets in person, we could at least reserve them online and pick them up anytime during the day. Sounds smart, right? Kind of rational? Instead, someone came up with the wonderful idea to give out tickets … to get new tickets. WTF?!
I will give an "atta' babe!" to the heads of Concert Board letting us pie them in the face while we wait. Good diversion, but I'm still in line, and, after an hour, I'm not even inside the campus center. If I'd actually gone to class (which I wouldn't have), I'd be out now. And listening to people babble about The Canterbury Tales is significantly easier to tune out than the nonsense around me.
Now flash forward thirty minutes. I'm at the ticket booth and find that they only have one window selling tickets while the other window is reserved for whatever it is that people go to the campus center for. So … the one person who wants to change the channel on the campus center's communal TV outweighs the hundreds of students in line for concert tickets. I didn't know the OCL only hires English majors. I should apply next semester.
I approach the counter after waiting oh−so patiently. The TuftsLife ad clearly stated one ticket per ID at $10 a pop. I hand over my ID as well as my two housemates' IDs and $30. The booth worker shoots me a smug little smile and tells me it'll be $50: $10 for my own ticket and $20 each for the others.
Excuse me? I have exactly 30 bucks on my person. Take my money. Give me my tickets. That's how this works. Psych! After waiting in line for over an hour and a half, I find out that one ticket per ID actually meant wake up early, get pissed off in line and get a big middle finger at the end. Where are those pie guys now?
At the end of this process, I leave with just two tickets, feeling empty and cheated. This whole morning has been a terrible, lamentable experience. I feel like the OCL and Concert Board simultaneously took my virginity and refused to cuddle with me afterward. Apart from not getting my third ticket, I got second−hand Axed and listened to a D student fight the good bilingual fight.
Oh well, I guess I'll just have to party−o extra hard−o at this concert−o.
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