Back at the Ranch

I dedicate this post to Pistol Priest and the others for whom certain and intense envy will result from reading:

Perhaps one of the largest lessons that I have learned in NY is that the secret of life is not always what you can do as much as it is who you know. Friends, let me say: I know people.

Actually, truth be told I know people who know people, and that works for me. This past Friday night I had the opportunity of a lifetime, and I will now share such an experience with you.

For the past week the illustrious band U2 played every night in the world's most prestigious venue, Madison Square Garden. As one might imagine, tickets for such an event were extremely rare, in fact hard to come by falls short in describing the absence of availability. There were none, zero, zilch, nada, SOLD OUT... months in advance. If you were not in the fan club, a prestigious celebrity, or a person of exorbanent wealth, there was no way to get tickets. Since I meet none of the previous three requirements there was absolutely no way for me to get a ticket. The average person would have settled with their eminent fate and gone on with their pathetic lives, but not me, I know people.

After beseeching my contacts, a plan was developed. As it was obvious at this point that tickets were out of even our reach, and therefore "alternative" options were discussed. Upon further review, a game plan was developed, and the rest is history.

After taking the train into Penn Station, "we" met together at an undisclosed location several blocks away. At that point I was handed a "ticket" (which was dated Feb. 24th) and given careful instructions about which side of the ticket to expose and which to hide. Written on the ticket was a small, meaningless message that would tip off the second, unnamed contact on the inside of our deal. I was then supposed to wait on the outside of the Garden until I received the phone call to give me further instructions, and finally reminded to "stay cool and just act normal". Famous last words was the first thing that crossed my mind, how could I act cool when told to do so? Just like a wet paint sign or the words "don't look down" the odds of my "acting normal" had greatly deminished.

At this point I am now semi-anxiously awaiting the phone call, standing outside MSG trying my hardest to look inconspicuous. Then came the call, which I kid you not started with these words, "Don't talk, just listen..." I was then given one chance to hear, remember and follow the instructions from "the voice" on how to bypass the two security checkpoints prior to the ticket booth, and then the general description of the contact on the inside and how to approach him with the "ticket". Of course, the conversation was ended with the words: "Remember, stay cool and just act normal." Yeah, sure...

Acting as "naturally" as possible, I follwed the directions through the bypasses all the way to the ticket booth and looked for my man. Naturally, as fate would have it, there are several guys who meet the description of the contact. This is the piont where doubts and second thoughts come racing in: "What if this isn't the right guy? What if it's a sting and he was put up to this? How long will it take those three police officers to get over here once they figure out what's going on? Where are my exits? Where can I run? What the heck am I doing? Screw this I'm going back! Heck no, it's freaking U2 concert, forget the consequences... what are the consequences?" Acting cool is a difficult task indeed when all of these thoughts plague your mind. It was at this point when I was reassured that I was not born for a life of crime or espionage.

So, all thoughts aside, I just went with the flow, tucked me head down, and walked as normal as I could to the supposed contact and prayed for the best. Acknowledging no one, including him, I flashed the secret ticket and he ushered me through -- no problems. Then it hit me, what was I worrying about, I know people.

That's right folks, I was inside, and at this point there was no way out, because were I ever asked for my ticket stub I would tell them the truth, "It's not on me, I'm just trying to get a better view." At that point I was instructed that they would just ask you to go back to your seat, and you would drift off to another place to try again, or go to the top and find a seat that no one wanted anyway. Who can complain about that, I mean hey, I was in, that was cool enough, right?... Wrong. You, the average reader, might have settled with the fact that you made it into a sold out U2 concert in Madison Square Garden without a ticket to your name, but alas you forget, I know people.

The original contact came through once again with some knock-off yellow bracelets that allowed us access to the floor. The bracelet then became our golden ticket that allowed us, without a ticket stub, to meander through the entirety of the Garden. So down we went, past all the fan club members, exorbanently expensive seats and prestigious celebrities, all the way to the floor. Yes my friends, believe me when I say Woody Harrelson literally attempted to use his ticket to get to where I was standing, and his attempts fell pathetically short. Apparently he forgot that I know people.

So there I was living every sports fan's dreams, standing on the floor of THE Madison Square Garden with all 20,000+ people looking down at me, dreaming to be in my shoes, saying to each other, "Man, he must know people". While that experience in and of itself was all I could ever ask for, I would hope that you have not forgotten one very simple and obvious fact: on the floor of the arena is where THE STAGE IS. And naturally, where the stage is, there you can find me also. Sure enough, with only two rows of tightly packed and thoroughly excited fans separating me from music history, there before me stood Paul Hewson himself, or Bono to the layman. Finally, the moment that you are waiting for:

Drum roll...................................................................................................................................