In which I share an ironic moment with myself.

In which I share an ironic moment with myself.

High expectations, indeed.

Scalpers 1, me, zero. (click through for the larger version.)

Well, it was like, this, see:

Dave Chappelle performs standup only intermittently since he retired from his breakout TV series. As a result, if you want to see him live, you need to be very lucky, or you have to know someone. Or, you’ll go to a scalper.

Tickets for all three nights sold out in less than half an hour, so a friend posted an ad on Craigslist seeking 2 tix for last night’s show, and a guy responded. I met him at Powell BART on Tuesday night and he showed me his printed StubHub receipts for the tickets.

The paperwork looked legit, so I gave him $150, much less than what he paid for them via StubHub and just a little over face value. He bought them as a New Year’s gift for his girl, but she had to do inventory at Nordstrom last night, so he decided to unload them. I overlooked this giant red flag because I really wanted to see Dave Chappelle.

Red Flag Day, photo on Flickr by tuchodi

Nothing to see here.

The line at the venue was the longest I’ve ever seen at The Independent, so it took a long time for us to actually get in even after doors were opened. And then we got the bad news from the guy reading barcodes at the door; he’d scanned these tickets 40 minutes ago when the doors first opened.

God bless the mark.

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Filed under Internet, Personal, San Francisco

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