As you ought to know, MUSE is my favorite band, and has been since I discovered them two and a half years ago. Seeing MUSE live in concert was the top item on my bucket list. And with a number of successful albums already released, it’s only a matter of time before the band breaks up and my chance to see them is gone.
With the release of “The Resistance” last September, I knew they would be touring this year. Problem was, they were going to be in Seattle while I was in the UK… I was not happy.
So I decided to do something about it. Looking over their tour schedule, I saw that they were going to have a show in Paris around the time I planned on traveling in continental Europe. And tickets were going on sale in only a couple days. Perfect!
But I didn’t figure that somewhere around 40,000 tickets would be sold in less than 8 hours. So by the time I woke up (given the 9 hour time difference), they were all gone. Panicked, I searched online and found some tickets available from a second hand source. Fine, so I bought one in mid-November.
After going about a month without hearing from the company, I started to get paranoid, so I did a bit of research. Turns out, the company was a fraud and I was out a ticket.
I waited to buy another ticket until I got to London. This one I bought from getmein.com, which is associated with Ticketmaster and so is more legit. Expensive, but I HAD to go to this show.
Until I actually had it in my hand, I was going to be paranoid about this concert. Starting in January, I waited for the ticket… and I waited… and I waited.
Eventually my time in London was over and I headed for the continent, so I changed the delivery address to that of my friend, Pidge. The idea was that Pidge, in London, would receive the ticket and send it to me.
But the ticket didn’t come.
Finally I reached Paris, still no ticket. Depressed, I still waited, but by Thursday it was too late for the ticket to get to me in time.
Then, Friday morning, I awoke with a new determination. I’m a BAMF, aren’t I? I’m a dude that makes thing happens. So I decided to go to the stadium anyway and buy a ticket off of someone.
Luckily before I left, I got a message from Pidge: “The ticket just arrived.” I told him where to send it, and that cost was no issue. An hour later I get another message. Apparently sending it to Paris overnight was going to cost 120 pounds, so instead he had given it to three Americans traveling to Paris on the Eurostar, which should be arrive around 18:00.
So with this shimmer to hope, I went up to the station with my name written in large letters on a card and met the train. And just like that, three Americans came up to me and gave me my ticket.
I still don't know if Pidge knew the people or not, or if he just gave it to the most trustworthy and understanding people he could find. Either way, the goodness of humanity came through.
At the very last second, I had it, and the next night, I went to the greatest concert of my life.
The details of the concert will be in part two.
A big thanks to the boys in London and to Pidge in particular, and to the three anonymous Americans who revived my hope.
