By “this”, I mean the jittery nerves, the white knuckle grip on the dining room table, the constant clicking on “refresh”, and if that weren’t enough….the hyperventilating that happens when sixth row seats land in the cart, all the while thinking that second or first would be better…and that’s just when Amanda does the presales and I’m merely observing the Twitter feed!
This morning I really think I had a near-death experience. There was one point as I was sitting vigil, hitting “refresh” every couple of seconds in the moments before Artist Arena began the presales for both Atlanta and Portsmouth this morning, that I truly felt faint. I could feel the cold, numbness start to seep down over my head and face, and that’s when I realized I had completely. lost. my. mind.
It’s a band. A silly POP band, no less. (Apologies to the band.) This is not brain surgery. I am not going to die if I don’t get good seats to the show. I will still live a very full and productive life if I don’t clap with John, see Simon’s fantastic dance moves or watch Nick take pictures while playing the keyboard at the same time. Somehow in the heat of the moment though, all sanity gets lost in the shuffle.
By 8:58am my time, I was convinced I was going to need an “air sick” bag next to my dining room chair. The pangs of hunger I’d had previously were all but gone, and I could feel the cold sweat begin to break out on my forehead. My stomach was continuing to do cartwheels, and as I continued to hit “refresh”, almost convinced that my connection was down, broken or being blocked by the Gods of Presale…suddenly tickets went live, and it was then that I thought I should have my cell phone (my mobile phone for those of you in the rest of world) next to me in case my blood pressure finally spiked enough to cause a heart attack, and I truly mean that.
Thankfully (For me. Perhaps not so much for the rest of you out there….), I have lived to see yet another presale should the band be so kind as to continue with another album and tour. At the very least, Amanda and I have tickets to our own final two shows on this tour. In Atlanta, our reign of terror on poor Dom will undoubtedly continue, as our seats are in the 6th row on his side of the pit. Once again, I apologize. In Portsmouth, Amanda and I were lucky enough to grab third row orchestra center. No, they’re not front row, but I’m counting my blessings that I’m alive to tell about them all the same. *Whew*
I still say I’m getting too old for this.