The Streets (Part 1)

Preface: The Superhighway

Early in the afternoon yesterday, I was surfing the information superhighway, when I paddled into a tsunami of a discovery; 'The Streets' and "Dizzee Rascal' were playing a show in New York City that night. These are two of the hottest hip-hop acts in the last ten years. As they are from England, they rarely come to the United States and this was my big chance to see them in person.

This is the story of my attempt to see The Streets and the overwhelming experience that followed.

Act I: Irving Place

Irving Plaza is a gig at the intersection of 15th Avenue and Irving Place, where 'The Streets' were playing that night. The show had sold out a long time ago, so the first part of my plan was to go up to the box office and attempt to buy a ticket.

"Sold-Out!" a muscular bouncer told me as I approached the box office. This was the beginning of my topsy-turvy relationship with this bouncer.

Well, my only other option was to look for someone selling an extra ticket to the show. I was willing to pay up to 50 bucks to get in, so I figured that it wouldnt be difficult at all to find a willing seller. At this point things start to get ugly.

A thirty year old bald British woman walked up to me and asked me if I had any extra tickets. I told her no, and she said she was desperate to get to the show. I told her I was too, and we decided to work together and try to get tickets for ourselves. As we waited for scalpers to hone in on the venue, her boyfriend walked up and told her that "Hurray!" he had gotten one ticket. I asked him if I could see it, so I know what a real ticket looks like and he quickly obliged.

Suddenly, an incredibly shady looking character bumped into me and asked "You looking to buy tickets?"

"Of course," I told him, "how much?"

"Fifty Bucks," came the quick, nervous reply, and it like he's read my mind.

The British woman's boyfriend also tells me he wants one, and the mysterious black man tells us to walk quickly at his side.

"Hurry man, there's police around here." Against all my better instincts, I hurry. Why should selling a ticket be illegal though. I know, certainly, that a New York policeman has better things to do, than to break up a $50 ticket transaction. But I'm desperate to get to the show, and the presence of the British guy assures me that nothing shady is going on.

As we walk quickly down the sidewalk, I hand the man $50 and he hands me a ticket.

"Is this real?" I ask, although what could I have possibly expected him to say in reply.

The boyfriend also gives the guy 50 bucks and the guy, in the first of many signs that I'd been taken practically sprints away. I look down at the ticket that I just spent 50 bucks on, and I'm dissapointed to say that it looks a lot like Kindergarten arts and crafts project by a semi-retarded child. That is to say, it is not very good.

"Hey," I tell the British girl's boyfriend, "I think we got conned."

He then stares at the ticket for what seems like an eternity, and I wonder why he does seem more upset.

"Let's go after that guy!" I suggest.

"Hold on," he says, and then stands there for a few more moments.

"COME ON!"

"Alright," he finally agrees, and he slowly walks in the general direction of the guy that had just taken our money.

Needless to say, we never found the guy, and needless to say this wasn't an accident. As soon as we gave up seeking him out, and as soon as the couple had left, I realize that I had been the victim of a medium sized con. In the history of cons, it didn't compare to "The Sting", but was much more painful than the time we convinced Timmy that they were giving out free laxative at the supermarket.

In hindisght, I realzied, that the couple had convinced me that it was safe to buy from the shady character, and then stopped me from chasing after him when I realized I'd been conned. I found my only consolation in the fact that they would have to split their take three way, and 50/3 dollars wasn't much of a salary to live on.

At this point, I was devistated. I was now the proud owner of an obviously fake ticket and no money. Sulking outside the plaza, I was just trying to stay positive.

In the next episode: my hilarious run-in with Alfonzo, the red-shirted kid, and a surprise twist!