Dateline Boston — Many years ago, before the internet, my friend D and I went to stand in line overnight for Prince tickets, a common occurrence for us in the ‘80s and ‘90s. We were so excited as we approached the venue. As we got closer, we noticed people walking away. Wait. Wasn’t this supposed to be a line? We found out that people were getting bracelets for their places in line. All the bracelets were gone, and we were out of luck. We were devastated.
But not for long. We found out that tickets would be sold the next morning at a record store at the mall across the highway. Someone offered to give us a ride. Younger and not wiser, we got into a stranger’s car. He took us to the mall and dropped us off at the front entrance.
We cased the joint and located the store and opening time. All set. Now all we had to do was kill some time…between the closing of the mall and the opening of the mall the next morning. We hung around for awhile. When the mall was closing, we somehow convinced the security guard to let us stay in the vestibule of the mall all night. As he locked the doors, he warned us that the morning guard would not be happy that we were there. We told him we’d deal with the guard, and settled into a night of sleeping on the floor of the vestibule of a mall. It wasn’t terribly comfortable, but at least we were warm!
The next morning, we were awakened by the morning security guard, who actually wasn’t as angry as we thought he’d be. As I heard the key turn in the mall door, I woke up, shouting, “We’re first in line! We’re first!” He made us wait outside until the entire mall was open. Didn’t matter to us; we were first. We waited for the throngs of people who had been turned away from the venue the night before, relishing the fact that we were first in line. As the hour of the opening neared, I glanced behind me. There were 10 people in line. TEN! Where were the crowds? Where were the hoards of fans? Just how many bracelets had they given away the night before?
No matter. The mall opened, and we rushed upstairs. We got our tickets, and had a fabulous time at the Prince concert, complete with a story to tell our grandkids in the future.
Ms. Vaillancourt may be contacted at snobbyblog@gmail.com
