An Ode to Paper Tickets
As an avid concertgoer, for years, the experience has been the same — at 10 a.m., I would sit at my computer (or, if I was at work, slip out and get on my phone) and open Ticketmaster, waiting until the exact moment tickets for my chosen concert would go on sale. I’ve often been the designated buyer for my family, trusted with the task of securing the best seats in a venue, and I’d add the necessary number of tickets to my cart, then opt to receive my tickets in the mail. Despite being sent in a nondescript envelope, I recognized it immediately, and I carried it off to a specific drawer of my bedroom vanity, or, later, a fireproof safe that housed important documents, a sign of the importance the tickets held. About once a year or so, I have a dream that I lost tickets or forgot about a concert I had tickets to, and I wake up in a panic. These are the things my brain consider to be nightmare-worthy. When I’d run through my mental checklist before leaving home for a show, tickets would be last but the most crucial.
Not once but twice I’ve been gifted an album for storing ticket stubs. I arranged them by date, creating a time capsule of ballets and concerts and sure, even the rare sporting event. Until stubs made it into an album, they floated loose in my purse among countless shades of lipstick and crumpled-up receipts or remained shoved in a small stack in the wristlet I preferred to take to such events.
My albums have a gap from early 2020 until late 2021, and shortly thereafter, they will end.
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The concert industry took quite a hit when COVID-19 hit in early 2020. For many musicians, the halt on live entertainment impacted their finances, and they, along with the numerous other people that keep the industry moving, not to mention fans, were eager to return to normal. Mitigation efforts were put in place, electronic ticketing among them, and for good reason — electronic tickets means contactless entry.
It’s probably for the best — in an industry that just might be impossible to make carbon-neutral, it is a step towards avoiding waste. It’s also convenient and one less thing to remember on my way out the door. Instead of distributing tickets to everyone as we wait in line, I can transfer them with just a few taps, and in the rare instances when someone can’t make it, reselling is incredibly easy.
But electronic tickets do have drawbacks, and I have some concerns, like what happens if cellphone service at the venue is bad or my phone battery drains during dinner or the ticketing company’s app crashes. While carrying a paper ticket came with a small degree of anxiety over losing it, at least the scenarios preventing me from enjoying my night were limited. And while vendors argue that the new electronic system is secure and prevents counterfeiting, you can’t hack a printed ticket.
Of course, for those of us who love a physical ticket as memorabilia, there are companies who will supply you with one.
As for my albums, it’s looking increasingly likely that they will end with Elton John at PNC Park in Pittsburgh on September 16, 2022 — and I was surprised when my mom handed me a physical ticket that evening instead of transferring one through an app.
Like many things before them, physical tickets will be — or perhaps already are — a relic of a past time. One day, when I’m long gone, my son will be going through my belongings and will come across to packed albums of ticket stubs, tracing my teen years seeing my favorite bands and date nights at the symphony with his dad and summers spent with his grandparents, aunts, and uncles seeing some of the biggest names in music.
