Friday, December 7, 2012

One Jazzy evening

I had several options for a rockin night, including a music party with prizes, and perhaps several pretty ladies milling about.  However, I am supposed to have a date tomorrow and was thus planning on not being able to go see the temple lights tomorrow night, so figured that I should go with another group going tonight.  Having just finished an exam review, I hustled over to the via point and met up with my group, who were antsy to make like a cow pie and hit the trail.  A few of us hopped in my car and got in with another guy to head up to Sandy to catch the trax line to SLC  Little did I know that I was not destined to see Christmas lights...

It turned out that traffic was horrific and by the time we reached the station, three of six of us were left behind, wondering what would happen next.  Luckily, however, another train followed only 10 minutes behind, ready to carry us to the big city.  During the interim is when the magic happened.

A man on the other side of the billboard that separated our two benches mentioned that his sister had found two jazz tickets left behind by a hurried passenger on the ground and he was considering scalping them after relieving her of them. 

I told him I thought it presumptuous of him to believe he could take tickets that were not his in the first place to make money for himself, and his face fell.  His heart was softened and he asked if I might like to redeem them at the game.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, as I reached for the tickets.  The next 30 minutes on the trax line consisted of me reveling in my victory and frantic phone calls to find the lucky one that would accompany me.  Finally I struck gold: my cousin Andrea was willing to come enjoy the game!  \

Upon arrival (right at the front steps of Energy solutions arena a.k.a. Radium Stadium, I might add) I met up with her and we walked in triumphantly.  Upon finding our seats, we found they were not satisfactorily close enough (they were in the nose-bleed section), so we walked down the stairs, picked two seats about 20 rows from the court, and planted ourselves with a firm determination that we would not be moved.  We were not bothered at all, but enjoyed the walloping of the Toronto Raptors that ensued in the final half of the game.  Upon completion, we were able to beat the small sizable crowd that had gathered so that I might reunite with the group I had forsaken, ready to tell my triumphant tale to all within ear shot.  And that is how I came to find myself at a Utah Jazz game that only cost me a ticket to Salt Lake City.

                                                               THE END

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