Blush!

I'm only posting about this because I promised myself I'd be honest about myself on this blog. And it's time to confess that I have been needlessly worried about something that I was just inept and stupid about.

I got my tickets to see Sir Paul on two different nights from two different sources. The first ticket (from a ticket broker) arrived via Fed Ex, safe and sound and perfect. The second ticket (from Wrigley Field) came electronically. I opened the email and clicked on the link but instead of a ticket, all I saw was a virtually empty page with just a code on it.

This is Sir Paul we're talking about here! I wanted the frigging ticket! So I emailed Wrigley Field and asked them to resend a corrected link. They answered me promptly, saying that the link worked just fine.

I tried again, saw the same empty page with nothing but a code. I started to panic. What if I was out the money? What if I couldn't get another ticket for Sunday? What then? Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together, mass hysteria?

So this afternoon I called Wrigley Field. There's a game tonight (against the Phils) so I was on hold for a long time. The young man finally came on the line and told me to open the email and tell me what I saw.

"A link," said I.

"Click it," said he.

I did, and the sadly familiar blank page with the code appeared.

He advised, "Now click that link."

Oh, shit. The code's a link?

I clicked on it and there before me was my ticket to ride.

But I can't believe what a dolt I was! I spend my damn life online, clicking links, embedding links ... most of the time doing stupid things like staying up to date with the woman who has a hairy nipple on her foot. (See?) But when it's something important, I get as stupid as Aunt Pitty in Gone with The Wind.