As it turns out, it isn’t as hard to get tickets to Conan as it seems to be. They had a lottery for tickets about a month ago on the TeamCoco website, and have been unavailable since. I found out through the website that a “limited number” of standbye tickets would be given out to people who show up at the studio at 10am the day of the show. I also saw that there were people camped out overnight to get these tickets for the first episode, and remembering the girl who had gotten to The Price is Right at 4am to be first in line, I didn’t really think that I would have much of a chance getting in this way. Conan fans are very loyal.
I was totally wrong.
I woke up Tuesday at 9:20, and showing unusual clarity for that time of the morning, and/or a reckless disdain for the schedule I have made for myself, quickly dressed and left for the studio. I arrived at about 9:55 and took my place at the end of the line of 16 people. The page arrived promptly at 10 and informed us of the standbye ticket rules. We had to arrive in the audience holding area by 2pm at the latest, to check in. Then we would only get in if real ticket holders didn’t show by 2:30. He said that we could each take 2 tickets, and most of the people took him up on it. I ended up with #28 and felt like my chances were not very bright. Not thinking that almost 30 people with tickets wouldn’t show up, I almost didn’t go. When I decided that it couldn’t hurt to try, I made a hasty exit, and I wasn’t properly prepared. I forgot my journal, and probably should’ve run a comb through my hair (watch Conan episode 6 and see for yourself. When he runs up the stairs to hug some girls with signs, you can see me for a split second to his right). I had some time to kill before I was planning to go to Assssscat @ the Upright Citizens Brigade theater, so I figured I’d go see what a Conan audience would consist of. To my surprise, half of the people who had shown up @ 10 for the standbye tickets didn’t show up for the actual show. The funny part was that the people who didn’t come were the first ones there at 5:30 that morning, and said that they were going to go get a few drinks and take a nap before the taping. It seemed like a good idea to me. I guess that the plan didn’t come together.
The tension in the standbye ticket holder pen was palpable for that half hour between 2-2:30. While the ticket holders laughed and talked to each other, we silently eyeballed each new arrival to see if they had a better number on their standbye ticket, or were ticket holders missing people from their party. I got a lot of looks of pity from my standbye bretheren who knew that my chances were the slimmest of all, and a few smug ones from people who had shown up hours early and were not at all happy that someone who showed at 9:55 might get in too.
There was a slight cheer and good natured backslapping as 2:30 rolled around and we were informed that we would all be getting to see the show. Even the smug lookers now gave me that “You know, you’re alright kid” look normally reserved for buddy/rookie cop movies, or soldiers who hated one another untill they saved each others ass during a firefight in ‘Nam. This cheer (and possibly the looks and back slapping) was echoed by a bunch of boners who already had tickets and thought that it was time to cheer because someone else did. This is how I see it playing out in their heads.
I can’t believe I get to see Han Solo on Conan’s new show. This so cool. Indiana Jones rocks. I’m gonna yell that out when he comes on stage. No I’m gonna yell Yo Indy!!! Yeah that’ll be badass, and I’m baddass because I’m gonna do it… Whoa, wait, what are those people doin…”WOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!!!!” That was awesome…what happened?
I have a theory that no matter where you are or what the situation, if you go “WOOOH” some numbskull will “WOOOH” you back. I wanted to try this out at a cemetery last weekend, but couldn’t do it. I can’t physically go “WOOOH” unless I say “Spring Break!” first. I don’t know why, it just won’t come out, and “Spring Break WOOOH!” just doesn’t seem appropriate at a cemetery. I encourage you all to test my theory as much as possible, and get back to me with your results.
It would stand to reason that the last person to be let into the studio might get the worst seat in the house, but reason cowers when it sees me coming. I don’t really know why, I’m actually quite fond of reason. Maybe reason just doesn’t really get me, or more likely it’s afraid because I keep giving it swift kicks to the crotch.
The page who was seating people asked how many were in my party, which struck me as odd. As I said before, I was the last one in the studio and everyone else already had seats. There was no one standing there but me. I furrowed my brow and looked to either side of me as I contemplated acting like I was talking it over with invisible friends before concluding that there were going to be 5 because 1 of us was in the bathroom, or saying that there were 3 people in my party, but the other 2 decided that they wanted some privacy and then flamboyantly flipping off some random couple on the other side of the studio.
I said “1 please,” meekly and she said, “Oh that’s perfect!” in a way that conjured up images of shiny rainbow and butterfly stickers fluttering from her mouth with each word. I got the distinct impression that she secreted glitter from her glands, and tasted like a lollipop. I can’t really explain why I got this impression, just a feeling I guess. She put me into some sort of furry walled trance and lead me down closer, and closer to the set as I supressed the urge to lick her arm. My mind created new colors, but called them red and blue and yellow and got really confused. I wanted to flip it off flamboyantly. When the sparkle being/page released me from my trance with a tight lipped smile and a “…um, sir? Your seat?” I realized that I had one of the best seats in the house. Reason had once again been bitchslapped, and I was seated second row center. The smug lookers, back slappers, and even pity givers now looked at me with the jealousy of someone who had put in their time at the old salt mine, but had just been passed up for a promotion that was instead bestowed upon the young punk upstart who had just joined the company. The early arrivers had been stuck in the back row, while the latecomer was close enough to hock a loogie on Harrison Ford.
I supressed the urge to hock a loogie on Harrison Ford, though it was a turd of an interview. That is not to say that it wasn’t interesting. It was quite interesting in a “What the fuck?” kind of way. Conan struggled to keep the car on the road, and elicit some sort of verbal response from Ford, but got very little other than wry, wild eyed looks (only Ford could pull off wry and wild eyed at the same time). It felt to me like I was witnessing the makings of one of those clips that are shown ad naseum right after a celebrity announces that they are entering rehab. Maybe he’s losing his mind to age, or is just a first class butthole*, but I don’t want to disparage him. When I played Star Wars as a kid, I would try to call “I’m Han Solo!” before anyone else could. He has a great story as to how he was “discovered,” and has made many good movies. He deserves to go crazy if he wants to, he has earned it. One of my greatest aspirations in life is to get to the point where someone says that I have earned the right to go crazy if I want to. That’s the pinnacle right there.
* Help me and team Arkansas bring “butthole” back! It’s so fun to say! Call someone a butthole today!