Boston most definitely was not sleeping soundly that night, and remains most grateful for your efforts. Only three weeks to go!
Comment by ModSue on Tuesday 04 July 2006 at 02:50.
So, based on the fact that ticket sales begin at 9am, London is on the phone to the venue five minutes early, being told by a grating, metallic voice that he is second in the queue. So far, so good. They want those front-row seats and there will be tears if they don't get them, having booked both the hotel and the flights several weeks beforehand, on the basis of unconfirmed dates at a semi-confirmed venue. The venue has already changed and they count themselves lucky that the dates have remained the same.
An international web of IM and mobile phone contact has formed in order to capture this particular fly. Peer-to-peer communication establishes that the Dublin-based arm of the network is first in the telephone queue, and Amsterdam is occasionally phoning the number to see how many others are further behind (generally between three and five). A second Dutch member of the tribe is waiting anxiously in the wings and several thousand miles further it is likely that Boston is not sleeping as soundly as usual.
Half an hour later, no answer. Dublin is still first in the queue, London still second. Bemusement is rife. Amsterdam is phoning other people in the background to see what's going on, but few are available. Capitalising on physical proximity (a man on the ground is worth two in the bush, etc.) Dublin decides to give up holding and to walk round to the venue in person. Sure enough, as he puts the phone down, London becomes first in the queue. When Dublin gets there, the place is closed - shutters down. The girl in the shop next door says it opens at 10:30. It's now ten to ten.
London works out the cost of the international call to Dublin and figures that the extensive funds so far committed to this exercise represent a necessary investment in order to maintain queue status. The Cyberman voice continues to thank him for his patience. He wonders whether it should actually be congratulating him on his apparently limitless reserves (which are in fact beginning to dwindle). Amsterdam gets through to a related organisation in another building and is told that the box office opens at 10am. London keeps holding. Ten o'clock approaches and recedes into the distance. The voice continues to suggest that an answer is imminent.
Ten nineteen... "Hello, Chaos Tickets...?"
A friendly but inept conversation ensues. London explains the need for five front row seats and is promptly put on hold "for a minute". Then the phone is answered again as though it has just been picked up. "Hello, Chaos Tickets...?" "I'm on hold," London explains, "for tickets... that show... five front row seats." "Ah, sure, no problem. Now, you weren't after any particular seats, were you?" London breathes in deeply, with a sense of impending, self-sabotaging sarcasm if this matter is not soon settled. "Yes, front row ones, please." "Ah, right. let me just put you on hold while I check availability..."
"Please don't put me on hold," London implores. "It is imperative that I get these seats, I am from England and my friends are from the USA and the Netherlands. We've already booked our hotel. I've been holding for quite a while, I'd hate there to be some kind of problem and I get cut off by mistake." He wonders if he has said too much, been too pushy, but oddly that seems to relax her a bit, they get chatting. "They're great seats, you'll enjoy yourselves." Click. Card number. Address. Click. "Post or collect?"
After all this, there is no way that the resolution of this matter is going to be put into the hands of either An Post or Royal Mail. "Collect, please." "We'll see you then." London conveys progress status to Amsterdam, which in turn conveys progress to the Dublin contingent. London decides to report in to Boston, but Boston is already online, querying status. Mission accomplished, he is pleased to advise. We have lift off, the eagle has landed and Heuston there is definitely not a problem. The word-wise web has captured its prey.
Posted by Hg on Monday 03 July 2006 at 21:56.
Received 4 comments so far.
Comments
It was hard work, but sort of fun too.
Imagine this x10 is what we go through for U2 tickets every four years.
I just got tickets for the Leonard Cohen tribute in Dublin in October. Ticket sales were supposed to start at 9am (GMT). I decided to check at 8.15am, and Ticketmaster.ie were quite happily selling tickets. Fuck. So I got two seats, but they are somewhere in the middle of the stalls seating. Tickets through the Theatre box office start selling in August. I reckon they'll have the better seats, so I'll try again then, and hope to offload these two.
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