Oh, The Brutality Of It

I got up at six this morning and rushed out the door to go and line up for Conan O’Brien tickets. When I got there, there were 17 people in front of me already. They only hand out 75 standby tickets per day, and I reckon by 7:30 there was well over 75 people in the line. At which point logic would dictate that you give out the tickets and send everyone home. Logic or organization for that matter didn’t figure into the day though. So at 9am, after standing in the one spot for three hours nearly getting knocked over by a bus every time one screeched past. So I had my ticket with the number 18 on it and they told us to come back at 3:45pm at which point we wouldn’t have to wait any longer.

So I got back there a bit before 3:45 and went up stairs as instructed. At that point they noted my number and told me to come back in half and hour. So I went to the place instructed about ten minutes early and the lady there had a real attitude, informing everyone that they couldn’t linger around, you have to keep walking around the building until the exact time. So at 4:15, weary from a long day they said that everyone beyond 30 was no chance of getting in so they could get home. Throughout the day I had heard that 30 was usually the magic number, which gave me some confidence, but I was always dubious.

The next step was a line upstairs, where 30 of us waited for about 15 minutes (so much for no more waiting time). They still hadn’t filed in the regular ticket holders, they said once they did that they would count the seats and see what’s left. And in the most sadistic way possible informed people 19 and beyond that, upon initial count, showed they would not be needed. I had survived by one! That was close, but I started to get a terrible feeling in my stomach and thoughts of missing out by one started to flow through my mind. I love Conan and all, but I don’t like to think of myself as a groupie or anything, just the entire process of the day left me with thoughts of vomiting if I missed out. Sure enough, after waiting for 20 minutes to die and slow and painful death they told us to come downstairs to go through the metal detectors. Halfway through a group of girls, 4 spots in front of me, they suddenly halted proceedings. Goodbye! You can go home, thanks anyway. Ugh.

The whole Conan O’Brien ticketing system just plain sucks. Compared to the shows I attended in LA it is ridiculously bad. The phone ticketing is a disaster so I was resigned to standby. And the way standby was run today was just a poor reflection on NBC and a gross mistreatment of such loyal fans.

I’m so tired of being negative on New York, I am in desperate need of some good fortune here and it starts tomorrow with a 4am wake up and getting myself first in that line, I’ll be well and truly prepared for my 5 hour wait. I met some really nice people in the line, I felt sorry for the girls behind me who were from Finland. Finland is a Conan hot spot because he looks exactly like their (female) Prime Minister. This was their last day in New York and they got the cut. Tomorrow is my last day in Manhattan, I will be able to get the Subway in after that but I don’t exactly want to be doing that at 4am. The best part of the day was when La Bamba, the Trombone player on the show walked past me in the food court. Later on I saw him and the trumpeter Mark Pender.

About the Author: Andrew Ferguson

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