I have had March 14th circled in red on my calendar for 6 months. Not because it is the day before Michael’s 8th birthday, but because it is the day The Book of Mormon tickets go on sale in DC. If you have been reading this blog for a while, you know that I am a huge musical aficionado. (Or dork, whichever term you prefer.) I’ve wanted to see the show for years, and was never able to see it in New York.
What I didn’t realize was that March 14th was the MAIN ticket’s sale. Last week tickets went on sale for Kennedy Center members. The pre-sale crashed the Kennedy Center website and my lovely father sat on the phone for hours trying to get me tickets since my parents ACTUALLY ARE Kennedy Center members. He was out of luck. Than my mother called the special Kennedy Center donor number, since they are not only members, but also, donors….she was told someone would call her back.
When I was telling Doug this story he started to get nervous “How much are these tickets going to cost me? Your mother is calling a special PHONE NUMBER TO GET THEM?”
“I don’t know I just really want to see the show and I am trying to go the weekend Michael is at over night camp and we are making it your birthday/our anniversary/we can throw in my birthday I DON’T CARE. You hate all musicals this will probably be the only musical you like it doesn’t even matter we aren’t even going to get tickets.” (I don’t even think I said a breath while stating that sentence.)
Hey guess what? I was right, the special DONOR NUMBER DIDN’T EVEN RESULT IN STUPID TICKETS.
Wednesday is the American Express cardholders pre-sale and I plan to be on the phone at 10 am except we are getting a snow storm and I will probably lose power.
This better be the best damn musical in the history of musicals and I want someone to explain why the DC scalpers have all the tickets but normal little people, or DONORS, can not get a single ticket.
*This seems, CRAZY OBVIOUS, but this post was not sponsored by The Book of Mormon, The Kennedy Center, American Express, on any other product mentioned. I may, in fact, throw my hands up in the air and call Stub Hub and pay ridiculous prices for tickets. Shh….do not tell my husband.