A couple months ago I got a random Facebook alert that said Colbert Show tickets were available. I got all excited, told my friend Rose, and we both signed up and got tix for consecutive days. Unfortunately, when I got my confirmation email, I neglected to notice that I had to actually click on a link to officially confirm. So when my date rolled around, I didn't have any tickets.
But Rose, being infinitely smarter than me, actually clicked on the link and got the tickets. So yesterday we met up at 4:45—along with Rose's GF, Anna—and began the arduous process of actually getting into the show.
First we gave Rose's name to the dude with the clipboard. He checked her off and then examined all of our IDs to ascertain that we weren't terrorists. We were then directed onto an plastic-enclosed, snaking line where we stood around for a good hour, being urged to cram ourselves in closer to our fellow man so they could jam more people in. At about the one hour mark, we were startled out of our boredom by the perkiest woman I have ever had the horror of speaking with.
Chirpy McShowtunes was working her way down the line with a stack of laminated passes—I guess these were to serve as our actual boarding passes. But she didn't just hand them out, oh no. She accosted each small group and asking them where they were from and if they were SUPER PUMPED FOR THE AWESOME SHOW! With her SUPER EXCITED IMPROV VOICE she assured each and every couple and grouplet (four max, please!) that THEY were the reason for the show's success and she loved each and every one of us. LOVED!!!!
Imagine our horror. We are trapped in a plastic tube with a mad woman and a hundred or so other humans, who are doing their best to be good sports. At one point a large pony-tailed man let out an eye-wateringly vicious fart. Even his date backed away from his ass in horror, making sure to let everyone around her know that HE had dealt it; not she.
Meanwhile the whirling dervish of perkiness was getting closer. I suggested we say were were part of a cancer support group. Rose thought Crohn's disease would do the trick. Anything to bring this bitch down a few notches. But when she got to us, I didn't pretend I had cancer, I just asked her how she maintained such a high level of peppiness. She screeched that it was because SHE LOVED ALL OF US BECAUSE WE WERE SO AWESOME!!!!
Anna recoiled in horror, as the bug-eyed woman handed us our passes. Rose smirked, "you don't love us." YES, YES I DO—YOU GUYS MAKE THE SHOW!!! ARE YOU PUMPED!??!??! she replied and asked, her voice just this side of hysterical.
Once she saw we weren't going to answer, she moved on down the line, and eventually it started moving.
Our ordeal was far from over and all three of us were starving. We started talking about how a nice blob of guacamole would really hit the spot. I fantasized about the peanut M&Ms I'd almost purchased. As we inched towards the door, I felt a little burst of optimism. We could go out for a nice dinner after the show. The line picked up and, after being metal detected and having our bags searched, we were directed into a room where the Colbert Report was playing on a flat-screen.
Our fellow ticketholders were a jolly bunch. We felt like the bitchy complainy ladies in the corner. Our feet hurt. We were hungry. The room was airless and I didn't want to watch Colbert on the TV, I wanted to see him in the flesh.
Suddenly the TV flashed off and Scary McShrieksALot jumped up on a table. Once again, she inquired as to our pumped-ness level. Then she informed us that not only would we be treated to an OHMYGOD comedian before the show, but also a Q&A with Colbert, out of character. She added the caveat that we weren't allowed to ask him anything naughty. That cracked her up, big time. Oh, how she chortled. Hey, if you can't laugh at your own jokes . . . well, maybe they're just not that funny. She also told us that they were still rehearsing and asked for our patience. The TV went back on.
Meanwhile, a dark cloud was forming over our little corner of the room. "How long should we give it?" Rose asked. We decided ten minutes was fair. Our hope was piqued again, when the security guard turned off the TV again to make another anouncement. The announcement was, he didn't know when we'd be let in because they were still rehearsing.
Now maybe if they'd had a guest more compelling than a doctor who studied ANTS, we would've stuck around. But at the two-hour mark, we filed out to get some dinner. I know the tickets were free, but treat your audience with some respect. Or at least a bowl of guacamole and some sofas.