Tuesday, September 26, 2006
post-season ticket delivery: the saga
TBF: “I called the Mets office and got the tracking numbers for our tickets.”
MG: “How did you get MY tracking number??”
TBF: “I had all your info, including your account number.”
9/25, 6pm
I am rushing into the subway to head home. I check the phone on my way down the stairs and notice I have had three phone calls from TBF. I assume there is an emergency on hand.
“Our tickets are on the way.”
“Can I get on the subway?”
“Yes”
The rest of the evening, TBF obsessively checked the UPS tracking system, informing me that our tickets had left Fort Smith, Arkansas, which is where the largest printer of ticket stock in the country is located (or so I was informed).
“You scare me,” I said.
He continued to smile that little smile, the smile that could only be described as GODDAMN, MY WORLD SERIES TICKETS ARE ON THE WAY.
9/26, 10:27am. email from TBF:
“updates
Both packages have arrived in Maspeth and are “out for delivery.” Maybe we can get them tonight.”
11:21am
“Tracking shows delivery was attempted for both packages. :)”
12:01pm, from me:
“fine. so call UPS and see if we can pick them up tonight at maspeth. we get there at 7:45 and camp”
[this is because our UPS facility gets lines around the block. they are only open from 7-8. if you are smart you get there close to 8.]
7pm, Zero Hour
We are in the car heading for the UPS facility in Maspeth, when we pass a UPS truck parked a half a block away.
TBF: “Maybe that’s our UPS driver?”
I pull over. “Go see!”
He returns 5 minutes later with two envelopes in hand:
We sat there huddled under the streetlight, reading every bit of fine print on the tickets, before I turned the car back on and we drove off.
Now, we still had to do the rest of our errands. However, now TBF does not want me to get out of the car. He wants me to stay with the tickets. We compromise by putting the envelope into my purse, while we walk around the grocery store discussing our new arrivals:
“If we sit in the upper reserved box for THE WORLD SERIES, we could bring a sign.”
“Is there a difference for photographic purposes whether we sit in the front row of the mezzanine reserved or the front row of the upper deck boxes for THE WORLD SERIES?”
“Which seats should we trade for THE WORLD SERIES?”
Every possible way we could work the phrase “our tickets for the World Series” into a conversation during a 10 minute grocery store visit, we did it. My god, we are a pair of sad, pathetic dorks.
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