One of my all-time favorite bands from my youth, The English Beat, are back together again and playing tonight in NYC...and I can't get two fucking tickets to save my life.
Ticketmaster is sold out. My scalper didn't know about the show. Nobody on Craigslist is selling their tickets. And because the band's not with a major label anymore, none of my buddies in the music industry can even help me out. Even worse? They're peforming in a tiny club about 4 blocks from my apartment!
So what am I going to do tonight instead? Aside from wallowing in misery, I think that, for old-times sake, I'm going to put on an old English Beat t-shirt, throw on a pair of black parachute pants, shave my head again, and dance a little ska-style by myself while singing "Mirror in the Bathroom," "Save it for Later," and "I Confess."
Ahhh...to be 13 again.
(Update: Turns out my good friend, J., has an office 6 floors above the venue. The super of the building is "a 6'7 brother with many past lives, one of which was working as a bounty hunter-he knows all the doormen and has open access to every show." J. put in a call for me and is waiting to hear back. Apparently, the normal renumeration required is $50, a bottle of booze and a joint. Hmm...check, check, check. With a little luck, I'll be front row for tomorrow's show. Keep your fingers crossed!)