Just a Big Mistake. Really.

I have never been a fan of Ticketmaster. I hate all the big 'transaction fees' and the snafus trying to buy tickets online. Why they need such a big transaction fee even when you are doing electronic tickets is beyond me. What a racket. Then they sell out almost immediately, but you can instantly find tickets at higher prices on the secondary sites. I hate that.

So when I read about this today, it made me really glad I wasn't joining many of my fellow National Delegates for the trip to DC for the Inauguration. Many of them were trying to get tickets to the Inaugural Ball. There are only two official ones this year, and one is the Military Ball, for servicemen and women. Several succeeded, while others sat forever online while their computers whirred hopelessly. If you thought, after a totally unreasonable amount of time, that your computer was locked up, and tried again, you'd lose your place in the virtual cue.

Some of the faithful were not happy that, after a year of time and effort working to reelect the President, after daily onslaughts of emails with updates, planning, and never ending requests for money, that they would have gotten the inside track on when tickets would go on sale. I suppose they should look at it as a very democratic process...with no inside track. Sadly, the people with the inside track were email subscribers to Ticketmaster.

I had no plans to fly to DC in January. I have been to DC in winter. My sister and brother in law flew out from PDX last time to attend the inauguration in the freezing cold, wrapped up in their most heavy duty winterwear. I prefer my winter outdoor exposure to include calorie burning exercise that allows me to wear thin layers of clothing even when the temps are in the 20s. And friends of mine know, I'm not much of a 'Ball' girl, unless it's the MLB kind of ball. Which reminds me of a story.

When we lived in Lagos (91-97), the big deal of the year was attending the Marine Ball. It was like prom. Everyone would get dressed to the nines and go to cocktail parties at each others' houses before heading in town for the big event. We were part of the Marine Ball Not gang. We'd have a big dinner party at one of our homes, and play board games until the wee hours. We didn't dress up. We didn't dance. We did eat, drink and listen to music. And play nerdy board games like Risk. Or my favorite, Songburst 50s and 60s edition, where teams had to correctly finish singing a phrase from a tune, given the year, the band, and the first few words. I still have it, by the way...it may be time to dust it off for a game night.

In 1995, I had to rethink our plan. Our Marine Ball Not Party was almost a disaster. My soon to be fired cook... who I hadn't wanted in the first place because I like to cook myself, but felt pressure to give him a job...had been told to make some aloo tiki (Indian potato fritters) with chutney dip as one of my appetizer contributions. I went next door to the Marine Ball party for a bit, took some pictures for them, had a few drinks, and came home to find no cook, and no appetizers. I looked in the oven, thinking maybe he had put them in there to keep warm. I could SMELL them, but I couldn't find them. Finally I looked in the trash can. There they were. They had exploded upon frying- he dumped them and ran. And never completed the other appetizers. Fortunately, the cocktail party next door had to leave with plenty of food uneaten. I collected their leftovers and our party was saved.

And so we were beholden to the Maurers, who told us that we WOULD be going to the ball in 1996 because it was the 75th anniversary of the Marine Ball. They would buy tickets for us if we didn't, so get prepared. I took them seriously, and gave the local tailor one of Lloyd's suits for size, and he made a tuxedo for him (for a whopping $50 or $60- Lloyd still has it). And I bought some nice fabric and a pattern while I was on home leave, to make a fabulous dress. It was OK. The cocktail party was great, I drank enough to dance a few times, the ceremony was awesome, and it was fun talking to some of the young Marines at our table, so far from home. We were transferred back to the States before the next one, so I was glad I went. Once.

The cook? Well, the holidays were approaching. I gave Victor his food basket, some severance pay, and sent him on his way. I took back my kitchen with Gladys, the housekeeper/nanny who could cook better anyway. And we all stopped gaining weight without Victor's killer croissants and breads.