So I've been feeling awful for my sister, who's nearly 12, since the upcoming Hannah Montana concert sold out in minutes a few weeks ago.
Last week, I called in to a radio station, on a whim, and amazingly was caller 10. That entered me into a drawing the next morning for tickets. I had a one in three chance. I lost.
Yesterday, I heard they were releasing 1,000 more tickets and 500 people who showed up at 5 p.m. would get a wristband for a chance at tickets this morning.
Because I remember what it's like to really, really like a teen singer, I went to stand in line for a wristband. I arrived at 4:15 p.m. and ran past a line that stretched the entire length of the arena (probably three city blocks). I wasn't sure if 500 people were in line ahead of me already. It was close, I figured. I waited, and at 5:30 p.m., I got a wristband.
The instructions were clear: Do NOT remove it.
I left it on through dinner and then carefully slipped it off and called my mom to ask if she could return this morning to buy the tickets.
She ended up with four tickets to the most have-to-be-there tween concert in a long time. But a lot of people walked away disappointed, again.
As I waited yesterday, I listened to the mothers around me. The one in front of me: "We're going to be 501. I just know it. Don't get too excited, honey." Geez, I thought. How about instilling some hope in your child.
The one behind me had left her daughter at home. She was keeping her last-ditch effort a secret. I couldn't blame her.
I watched as more and more mothers, fathers and grandparents stood in line. People were being dropped off, clutching folding chairs. One man impatiently shouted for his two kids to GET IN LINE! while he parked the car. $6, of course, to park at the Qwest.
I felt sad as the line continued to grow. I knew so many of those people were going to be turned away. And so many more, who got their hopes up with a wristband, weren't going to get tickets today. 500 bands and only 1,000 tickets. Everyone could buy four tickets.
All of this for a teen pop singer?
It's too bad. Even though I was just as willing to spend time trying to get my sister tickets, I realize how silly it all is.
Just think: If as many people got together to fight homelessness or AIDS or poverty or cancer or mental illness or any of the other ills in our world today what change we could make. It would be incredible.