Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Fancy Meetin' You Here

by Yours' Truly

Back in 1997 or so, my girlfriend and I had tickets to see Late Show with David Letterman. The folks at Late Show have a policy of overbooking each show, so having a ticket doesn't actually guarantee you a seat. You have to show up a couple of hours ahead of time and have your ticket numbered. Then you stand in line, numbered ticket in hand, and wait to be let inside. Rain, sleet or snow, you stand there exposed to the elements, all for the chance to see the Top Ten List read in person. Meanwhile, there's another line of people who don't have tickets for that night's show, but who are hoping that enough of the people who actually ordered tickets won't show up in time thus, letting some of the standbyers get a seat. Depending on who's appearing on the program that night, the standby line can start forming quite early in the day. This was surely one of those days. It was an A-list lineup: Dan Rather, Tori Amos, and the chick who played Daphne on Frasier. The stars had never shined so bright in the Big Apple!

I knew we had to get there as soon as possible, but we missed the train that we had originally intended to catch and time was running out. If we didn't hit the ground running once we arrived in Manhattan, we probably wouldn't be able to see the show. That would have been a fucking disaster. So we catch the later train and begin run-walking the twenty-some blocks to the theater.

While in the midst of an extremely important argument about who was to blame for our predicament, I noticed a huge (and I'm talking HUGE) person walking straight toward me, his eyes locked onto mine and his arms raised above his head not unlike the way somebody would do if they wanted to intimidate you. Being from Bridgeton, I was used to this. But I was out of my element and this guy was a giant. My fight or flight response was leaning heavily toward flight, so I calmly began positioning myself so that I could shove my girlfriend right into this supposed assailant's oncoming path, thus giving me the edge I would need to escape. Just as I was ready to make my move, I realized who it was, and relief washed over me like a cool splash of Georgetown pool water after Jared's infamous dive.

And so begins one of my favorite Bridgeton Legends of all time: the night I hung out with Bill Fahber in Manhattan.

There, in a city of eight million people, three Bridgetonians found each other. What are the chances?

I forget why Bill said he was in New York that day, but I remember him telling me that he had some time to kill before his ride showed up, so he decided to walk with us up to the Ed Sullivan Theater. Along the way, he asked me if I thought he would be able to get in to see the show. I explained the ticket policy and told him there was no way on God's green earth that he was going to get in to see the show. Bill said he was going to try anyway.

I remember feeling bad, because it was a pretty far walk and I figured that Bill was going to get left out in the cold. What little faith I must have had in the Bridgeton Public Schools. Today I realize that anyone who can make it through Art the Dart's Lab Tech class can surely handle a network page, but back then I was young and stupid and believed the fine print when I read it.

We eventually arrived at the theater, but not before Bill told us about a screenplay he had recently written (which I think was called "Go West"---if anyone has a copy, please send it to me). My girlfriend and I raced to get our tickets "officially numbered" while Bill began chatting with one of the production assistants standing near the doors. The P.A. went inside, then came back out a moment later and handed Bill a ticket.

Long story short, Bill's ticket apparently had some sort of Willy Wonka powers, because it enabled him to jump to the front of BOTH lines. He ended up in the front row on the floor, prime real estate, while the tickets that my girlfriend and I had ordered MONTHS AHEAD OF TIME landed us in the last two seats in the back row of the balcony.

I haven't seen Bill since that night, but I am still extremely impressed with his "Late Show" ticket coup nearly ten years after the fact.

Well played, Bill. Well played indeed.

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