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   Tuesday, July 29, 2003

THOSE SATANIC MAJESTIES

The Ticketmaster outlet at the record store has been swamped these last couple days with last-minute pick-ups and purchases for the Rolling Stones' big SARS-a-thon tomorrow. It was bad enough when tickets first went on sale, with line-ups out the door and around the block, but this last flurry has made me happy I decided not to head out to Downsview Park tomorrow. Call me a snob, but I don't want to be fenced in with 800,000 of the people we've had in the store yesterday and today.

It's the drunks, mostly. For weekday afternoons in Toronto, there's been a lot of them. Two of them today had Laura so nervous, she called me over to the Ticketmaster counter just to stand there with her. To help her out, I asked the crowd if they'd move back and line up against the wall a little (so they wouldn't be such a free-flowing mob, frankly). "Sorry to be such a Nazi," I joked. "What's wrong with Nazis?," the one drunk hollered, "I like Nazis!" When his female companion suddenly decided she didn't want to pay for both tickets, she started hitting him in the stomach and finally slammed the money on the counter and marched off, ranting. "That's just her native heritage coming out," he said, and Laura and I took yet another simultaneous step backward.

Meanwhile, we had scalpers in our doorway, more ugly tie-die shirts with Stones lips on them than I've ever seen, and if people were this impatient in a mere ticket line-up, I can't imagine what they'll be like waiting in a massive line in the hot sun for a porta-potty. So no, I won't be going to the big event tomorrow.

Besides, Justin bloody Timberlake is performing there -- 'nuff said.

Labels: Trawna