I know I've been absent from the blogging world for quite some time now. I tell you, summer and computers just don't mix; I've been too enthralled with the delightful weather to really want to sit down and write anything. That and I just turned 21. I'm sure everyone has missed my bleeding heart liberal rants, but that's not to say my heart hasn't been bleeding. I realized recently that I differ from most young girls in the fact that all of the men who have broken my heart are politicians. Remember this? Yeah, I'm still crying over that one. More recently, I've found myself lying face down, utterly defeated by the state of the debt ceiling negotiations. And you can bet your ass that I've got something mean to say about that sham of a deal. But for now, lets get mad about something a little more fun. Perhaps I should say, let's rage.
Because I saw Rage Against the Machine last weekend. Yeah, fucking Rage. At the Coliseum. And holy hell, the Coliseum is huge. I've never been surrounded by so many people in my life, thus adding to the reasons I'm not going to a rave with you. I'd been stoked for this show since May. I bought my ticket the day they went on sale, and if not for some bad judgement counting tequila shots the night before, I probably could've gotten a GA ticket on ticketmaster before they sold out. I only remembered to buy tickets 6 hours late, but fortunately, I was able to find one on StubHub for a decent-ish amount of money. General Admission is always worth the investment, can you even imagine going to see rage and sitting down for it? I sure hope not. But lets rewind this story about 2 hours.
Besides Rage, a ton of (shitty) bands were scheduled to play this event, aptly titled LA Rising. Since, as you all know, I'm a productive, full-time employed contributing member of society, I had work earlier in the day, and therefore took a nap before heading to an on-my-feet-for-hours-event; I missed Rise Against, and I think my life is better for it. The long walk from my car to the entrance was littered with people asking if I was selling tickets, because apparently going to shows on your own isn't normal. Segue: I paid all of $1 for parking, so suck it everyone who shelled out 25 for Coliseum event parking. As always, I am the most impatient motherfucker you'll see waiting in line for a show, or anything, for that matter. I waited watching people get awkwardly pat down, bags searched halfheartedly, until finally it was my turn. As much as I am always tempted to make a scene during pat downs, (remember that Amy Poehler TSA skit?) I behaved myself better than usual as I got to 2nd base with a stern female security guard. I presented my ticket to the next guard, eager to claim my spot in GA.
He scans, and I prepare to walk through. What? I can't? Have I been in before? Fuck no, I just got here! I'm redirected to the Will Call booth. I'm getting fucked, aren't I? I walked to the booth, in absolute disbelief that I might not see the show. The people at will call know nothing. Pretty sure I just got fucked. Enter iPhone. I open my email and search for the confirmation for the ticket. Call StubHub customer service. Annihilate the cheery woman who answers with a barrage of obscenities. Quickly transferred to head of customer service. Mike in the Rochester office tells me to calm down. I try. He's given me a full refund. He puts me on hold as he contacts sellers in the area. 10 minutes later. No one has tickets. Are they selling tickets at the event? Yeah, but GA's sold out. My ticket was GA. Fuck. Search through bag. Pick through the wad of cash I threw in with my ID. $81. Cheapest tickets: $71. Fine. About to sit in the goddamn nosebleeds during a Rage show. Fucking lame. But I'm seeing it. Small consolation, I guess.
Another slightly awkward pat down. Show my ticket, get let in. Ticket says Gate 19. I'm at Gate 4. Time to trek. I dodge people like a fucking acrobatic pro, weaving through the crowd to get to what will most certainly be a horrible seat. Approaching Gate 19, I think to myself, why not try to use this bunk ticket to get into GA? Its worth a shot. I ask the security guard if I can get to GA from this gate. Nope, Gate 11. Let's head back. Glad I didn't work out earlier, I'd be dead on my frustrated feet. Finally there. Gate 11 is a long tunnel down to the field. Anticipation mounts, I know I'm supposed to have a wristband to be here. I'll play the slightly attractive lost girl card now. I walk down the steps, approaching the final hurdle to my GA dreams. 2 guards. Now 3. Checking wristbands. Fuck. I've got this GA ticket, can I get in? Ok, where do I get a wristband? Back up there? Ah, I see. Perfect timing feakout dude. Yelling at the guards: No, seriously I have to see a medic! Your ailment has been significantly beneficial, I think, as I slip past security and bury myself within the crowd. Mission accomplished.
So, If reading's not your thing (why are you here?) and you skipped to the end of this, the moral of the story is as follows: Originally paid 185 for a ticket, ticket was a sham, got refunded said $185. Paid 71 and saw the show the exact same way I would've if my first ticket was legit. Hashem would be proud of that $114 I saved. Advantage: Ratchel.
All above photos via We Are Party Animals because I'm sure as shit not gonna take out my phone in the pit at RATM.
Side Note: StubHub Customer Service is home to some of the nicest, most helpful people I've ever spoken to. Despite the issues with the ticket, I will continue purchasing on StubHub because of how amazing they were to me during what I thought would become a truly horrific experience. This is my official recommendation for StubHub.com, they are truly fantastic and really understand the meaning of good customer service.
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