Ticketmaster and Used Condoms

I went to school at George Washington University. If you live in DC, you're familiar with GW and its students because we work in every non-profit, NGO and government office in the city.

We're like vermin. We're not that smart and not that motivated, but we multiply and invade while spreading plague.

Unlike most people who attend GW, I couldn't rely on my daddy's fortune to get by. To make ends meed, I worked at the GWU Ticketmaster for almost four years. It was a lot of fun.

Most people would refuse to acknowledge your existence. They'd talk on their cellphones while paying for tickets. They'd talk to their butlers while their butlers paid for tickets. My only pleasure in life came from rejecting rich girls who tried to use their daddy's credit card:

"I'm sorry ma'am. But the name on you license does not match the name on your credit card."

"But that's my dad's credit card. See, the last name is the same!"

"Yes, I see that ma'am but Ticketmaster has a very strict policy regarding these things and there's nothing I can do about it. Would you like to pay for your Dave Matthews tickets in cash?"

We worked in a tiny office in the Student Union basement. It was across from the "Radio Station." This proved to be absolute hell because the "Radio Station" closed during holiday and summer breaks. When closed, they would loop the same pre-recorded radio show all day and all night long.

I got to hear DJ Voice 3000 introducing the same Hoobastank, Creed and Linkin Park "hits" OVER AND OVER AGAIN. Take it from me, college radio ROXX!!

On one particularly memorable Saturday morning, I opened the office with two fellow Ticketmasters--Jimmy G and Anna. Jimmy G was a smelly anarchist who refused to use shampoo. Anna was a nice pre-med student. We got along like gangbusters. Anna started doing some paperwork while Jimmy G opened up a register. I was setting my bag down in the backroom when I came across something strange.

A used condom.

Right there on the floor, in plain sight, there was a lovely little used condom. I think Anna screamed and possibly fainted. Jimmy G seemed kinda amused. I was amused but also screamed. We called up the University Police (aka the UPD) on our trusty walkie talkies. They came down to investigate.

Two burly "officers" came in, looked at the condom and said, "yup, that's a condom."

They asked us what happened, where we've been and what we've been doing. I had that classic Law & Order moment of "wait a minute, am I a suspect here?"

They seemed particularly interested in me and Anna. Even though we insisted that there was "nothing going on" between the two of us, we couldn't shake the suspicion. Evidently the UPD, and later our boss, and subsequently the entire student union building thought Anna and I had snuck into the Ticketmaster office for some hot sex prior to opening up on Saturday Morning. Or maybe they thought we opened up the office, then with Jimmy G by the registers, got nasty in the back room.

Either way, it lead to some uncomfortable stares over the next year. Everyone assumed I enjoyed getting busy in the back room.

Cut to a couple years later when I was living in Berlin, I get a message from Jimmy G on friendster:

Date: Thursday, February 19, 2004 7:26 PM
Subject: Now That You're In Germany...

Message: remember the condom incident at Ticket Master?

IT WAS MEEEE!!!!

I responded:

Date: Friday, February 20, 2004 3:47 PM
Subject: Re: Now That You're In Germany...

dude, you must be joking, please explain before i vomit.

So James explained:

Date: Saturday, February 21, 2004 12:8AM
Subject: Re: Now That You're In Germany...

well, you see. The previous night I had sex with this lady *****, and we didn't really finish, so I was tired and I fell asleep with it on. In the morning, I forgot it was still on and I put my underwear on and went to work cuz I was late.

It musta fell off between the pant legs at some point in ticketmaster.

Hahaha, and you were blaming UPD the whole time. Of course, I had to wait till you were out of *****'s range by about 1,000 miles or more before I could tell you as to avoid getting fired.

And thus, we solved the case of the filthy used condom. What have we learned? Smelly anarchists who don't bathe get a lot of action. Also, don't read Friendster messages from long-lost friends without a puke bucket nearby.