We all have our opinions about homeless people. We assume a lot of things that may or may not be accurate. But until you actually spend some time with a homeless person, you are in no position to pass an uninformed generalization.
Adventure #2 of a 3 part series.
The morning of Saturday March 27, 2010 my eyes opened as I lay in my King sized bed. I reflected on the adventure I had the night before and laughed a little. The night prior, I went to the Ultra Music Festival in Miami (see blog #6). I had an amazing time.
Unfortunately, I did not purchase a ticket for Saturday’s show. I don’t have a good reason for this. Especially since my favorite DJ, Deadmau5 was the headliner for Saturday. On Friday, there were many people on the streets selling tickets. I thought of this fact and decided to join my friends for Ultra part dos…Saturday edition. I will just scalp a ticket when we get there, I thought to myself.
When we arrived in Miami Saturday afternoon, it was a very different scene as compared to Friday. I could not believe the crowd that had gathered in front of Bicentennial Park. People were frantically pacing the streets holding up their hands indicating a number. The number of fingers they held up indicated how many tickets they needed.
“Ultra is sold out for the first time in history!” I hear a crazed voice say.
What?! Ultra is sold out? This means they sold 100,000 tickets! How can this be???
When I looked around I saw everyone looking for tickets but no one selling any. My friends had wisely already purchased their tickets for Saturday. They were sympathetic to my situation but didn’t want to wait all day with me as I tried to find a ticket.
“You guys go on in. I KNOW I can get a ticket! Keep checking your phones and I will text you when I get one.”
My friends went into the festival and I began my quest. I walked up and down the streets in front of Bicentennial Park holding up my hand indicating that I needed one ticket. I did this for about a half hour. I was getting nervous. The only people selling tickets were asking $300-$500 a piece (They are actually sold for about $100).
Feeling defeated, I went to Hooter’s to grab some dinner. I cannot tell you how much it sucks to be sitting at Hooter’s when all you wanna do is be at that dag gone music festival. ARGH!
After I finished my 10 wings (hot and naked, of course), I set out on my quest again. Everyone I passed I asked if they had any tickets. The answer was always the same, either “No” or ‘Yes, for $300.” I decided to head to one of the Metromover stations so that I could get people coming off the trains. Surely someone had the ticket of a buddy who got too drunk the night before and couldn’t make it today?
In front of the station sat two homeless men. I sat down with them. I explained my situation to them and showed them the make shift sign I had made at Hooters on a cocktail napkin. It read, “NEED 1 ULTRA TICKET!”
Jorge, one of the homeless persons told me that I was going to need a much bigger sign than that. Damn, really? Nonetheless, both Jorge and Peter (the other homeless person) helped me yell at passing people asking for a ticket. I sat with them for about an hour and they told me about their lives. I was surprised to hear that they were both professionals. Jorge was once a financial analyst who lost his job as a result from the economy. Peter was once a chemist. Peter didn’t really elaborate on why he was now unemployed, he was the quieter of the two. We spoke for a while and I told them I was thinking about just heading on home. Then Jorge says to me, “If you really want something to happen for you, you have to make it happen.”
**Insert epiphany music here and a heavenly ray of light on Jorge**
Then it dawned on me. HE WAS RIGHT! I am determined to get into Ultra and I have to make it happen! I can do this!
I thanked them, said goodbye, and marched my a$$ back out to the park. The scene was still the same, tons of frantic people looking for tickets. Lurking in a corner on the street, I noticed four girls in a huddle. They were holding two tickets. I ran up to them. “Hey, do you guys wanna sell your ticket?” I asked. Each of them had really sad expressions on their faces. They explained that they had scalped the tickets earlier but needed two more in order for the entire group to go in together. “We only have two and we have been trying to get two more for a long time now,” one of the girls said. They told me they were ready to give up and were willing to sell me the ticket for what they paid for it. $250 later I was on my way to the front entrance of Ultra!
The entrance line was insane. I have never seen so many people huddled in one spot before. I arrived to the front gates and they scanned my ticket. Nothing happened, silence. The admission employee looked up at me and said, “I’m sorry, this ticket is a fake.”
“What?!?! No, no, no this cannot be!!!”
“I’m sorry ma’am, you will have to exit. You are not the first person this has happened to today.”
“No! Please, please let me in!” I begged.
“Sorry ma’am, please step aside.”
Determined, I went a few lanes down and tried again. The exact same sequence of events occurred. I went a few more lanes down and tried for a third time, and then a fourth. Each time I tried, I was told that my ticket was a fake and that I needed to exit the entrance. I saw a cop at the end of the entrance gates and pleaded my case to him. He explained that he has been hearing this story all day and that there was nothing he could do.
I wanted to cry! I felt so pumped from Jorge’s inspirational speech, surely this could not end this way!
I felt more determined than ever. I went right smack in the middle of the entrance way and handed a new attendant my ticket. He looked at me and I gave him the most pathetic puppy eyed expression I could muster. He scanned my ticket. Nothing happened. He looked back up at me and my hopeless expression. Then something miraculous happened. “Just go”, he said. “Hurry, go!” At that moment, I whisked by the merciful gate attendant and ran as fast as I could into the festival, dodging people left and right. Once I felt that I was safely in the festival, I stopped running and stood there in a moment of silence.
I looked down at my fake ticket stub that cost me $250. A huge smile crossed my face and I began to jump up and down in victory.
I MADE IT! I EFFING MADE IT!
Jorge, if you have internet access one day again and read this…Thanks buddy. You were right. If we want something to happen we have to MAKE it happen!
LOVE this story! someone once told me that people often give up right before whatever it is that they want to happen, does. so i'm glad you didn't give up.
ReplyDeleteand those girls who sold you the ticket (and i bet they knew it was fake) - should be subject to some cruel punishment like a dunking booth for 22 hours.