My wife and I were able to knock “see Jimmy Buffett live” off our bucket list a few weeks ago.
We went with some friends and had the time of our lives.
As amazing as it was, I was surprised by how many songs he sang that we didn’t know. He got around to most of the ones you’d expect him to do, and he sounded great doing them.
As if me going to see a 72-year-old isn’t enough of an indicator as to which phase of life I’m in, let me explain how the admission ticket works nowadays.
I grew up going to Turtles Records and Tapes to buy tickets to whatever I wanted to go see. If you don’t know what Turtles is, you missed out.
I remember my bedroom wall as a teenager, right beside the light switch, had every ticket to every show I’d ever been to stuck on the wall with a thumbtack. Like tiny little paper trophies.
Until the Buffett concert came along, the most current I had gotten with tickets is I would buy them online and have the paper ticket sent to the house in the mail.
Not anymore. For this show, I bought our tickets online, and they sent me an email saying I had successfully bought tickets. I was clear I purchased the tickets, my bank account confirmed that.
What I wasn’t so clear about was whether or not I was going to be able to get in the show with no ticket in hand.
Every time I saw our friend we were going with, I’d show her my email and ask her if that was going to work. She kept assuring me we would be fine.
As the night of the show arrives, and we make our way to the gate, it starts to downpour rain. Completely drenched in a matter of seconds, that’s how hard it was raining.
The rain wouldn’t hinder the show. The problem for me, however, was my phone screen was wet and wouldn’t open up past the lock screen. I’m walking toward the front of the line, my soaking wet thumbprint won’t open my phone to get to my email that may or may not even get me into the gate.
I’m trying to open the otter box case so I can touch the screen and have it recognize either my thumbprint of let me type in the passcode. I’m in full panic mode trying to get my email up before I get to the front of the line, wondering if the rain itself would fry my phone once I pried it from the case.
I was able to get it out, and opened up my email, in the nick of time. To my bewildered eyes, the lady pointed some hand held device at my phone, something like a barcode scanner and we were good to go.
This new method of ticket buying works. The only downside to it is, if you come to my house and look at the wall beside my bedroom light switch, you’ll just have to take my word that I saw Jimmy Buffett. I don’t have my tiny little paper trophy like the good ol’ days would have allowed.
Toby Nix is a local writer, guitarist and deputy sheriff. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org .