My faithful readers may recall that last summer I got last-minute tickets to NEARFest, a fact evidenced by my article entitled "Confessions of a Festival Virgin." Shortly after that article appeared on this web site, I began to receive snickering emails (yes, they actually snickered, thanks to the attached audio files and complex emoticons depicting snickering proggers). These emails informed me that, if I was still a virgin at my age, I really ought to get a date. I wrote back that, in the article, I was referring to the fact that I had never attended a prog festival, not that I had never had a sexual encounter. I did, in fact, lose my virginity very early on, certainly by the age of 45.

But virgins, of any type, are not what this particular diatribe is about. This diatribe is about the acquisition of NEARFest tickets, something I wasn't involved in last year, as the tickets fell right into my lap (I really need to fix that hole in the ceiling. It was okay to have tickets drop in my lap, but that bat guano is disgusting). I promised myself this year that I would get up bright and early Saturday morning, March 20th, and secure my tickets for this year's event.

Hah! Little did I know that that would be impossible. You see, there never were tickets for sale. The festival's promoters (Hi, Chad! Hi, Rob!) had already sold the choice seats for unbelievable sums of cash. I heard from an informed source that the front row seats went for $100,000 each. Moreover, everyone who got one of those seats had to sign an agreement that they would laugh very hard at all of Chad's and Rob's Masters of Ceremonies jokes, slapping their knees and saying stuff like "Oh, Chad and Rob sure are funny guys!"

The rest of the tickets? They gave them away!

I know this because of the intense research I launched into immediately after my failure to acquire tickets for myself and two family members. I completed my research using the tried and true methods that have always served me well in the past. For those of you who might be suspicious of my methods, here's the procedure:

Research Step #1: Do a Google search on the appropriate key words (in this case, my keywords were "Progressive rock festival ticket conspiracies committed on March 20 by two guys named Chad and Rob").

Research Step #2: Wonder why Google never seems to return any hits for my queries.

Research Step #3: Sit down with my word processor and start making stuff up.

Now, when I say "making stuff up," I'm talking about a heralded skill called "educated guessing." You see, I'm a pretty smart guy. When I make stuff up, I'm usually right on the money. For example, right off the top of my head, I can guess that 70% of all U.S. citizens can name every member of Yes, although possibly only first names. Yes, I know that sounds absurd, but I can prove it. How? Via educated guessing! Try to stay with me now, as I present the very logical facts that lead me to the aforementioned conclusion:

Fact #1: My favorite band is the Beatles

Fact #2: 81% of all Americans can name all four Beatles, although possibly only first names.

Fact #3: Yes is my second favorite band.

Fact #4: If 81% of all Americans can name all four Beatles, my favorite band, then it stands to reason that at least 70% of all Americans can name all members of Yes, who is my second favorite band.

See? This educated guessing stuff is easy. At least it is if you're as smart as me. So now let's apply the same thinking to those dang NEARFest tickets, which supposedly sold out in less than an hour. Here are the facts:

Fact #1: The venue has 1,002 seats.

Fact #2: The front rows, which comprise 500 seats, were previously sold for $100,000 each. You know this is true, because I told you the price of these seats earlier in this article. That leaves 502 seats.

Fact #3: Each CD vendor is guaranteed 10 seats, as long as they promise to give Chad and Rob one copy each of every CD they plan to sell. Because there will be 50 vendors at this year's NEARFest, that leaves two empty seats in the theater.

Fact #4: Each member of a performing band is guaranteed two seats. Because there are ten bands comprising 87 people (including roadies, groupies, limo drivers, make-up personnel, caterers, and body guards), Chad and Rob have guaranteed an additional 174 seats. Two of these seats are in the theater, which leaves 172 musicians sitting on the grass outside (Most bands don't read their contracts carefully and almost always miss the "grass seats" clause).

So, you see, there never were any tickets to buy. This whole sham of tickets going on sale March 20 at 11 am is just the way guys like Chad and Rob get their kicks. What were they doing while you were typing your fingers raw trying to get a response from the Tickets.com web site, or stabbing at your phone's redial button until your fingernail broke off? These two fine fellows were knocking back shots and laughing at all the poor schmucks trying to get NEARFest tickets ... tickets that didn't even exist!

So, no, I didn't get my tickets, which is especially sad considering that I'm the #1 progressive-rock journalist in the world, with more fans than even Genesis, Yes, and Britney Spears combined. Luckily, I can watch NEARFest when the HBO special airs. What HBO special? Well, I know it hasn't been announced yet, but any concert that sells out its tickets in less than an hour -- even if there never really were any tickets -- is bound to get its own HBO special. Call it an educated guess.

Until next time, send me your proggy thoughts via email at cwalnum1@earthlink.net. Most importantly, keep on proggin'!

Links:
NEARfest
Yes
Beatles

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Published on: 2004-03-21 (3930 reads)