Distribution process is inane
Stephanie Anderson
Student Columnist

> February 16, 2001

One of the few fiascoes here on campus greater than the basketball team is the method in which to obtain tickets to one of their performances. Why it is necessary to gather forces at the gates of Spry a full two days prior to the ticket handout is beyond me, considering that no undergrad remembers the last time the Joel was full. A long time ago, for reasons unknown, forces gathered together in some dark corner of the world we call Wake Forest and decided that a few times a year, it would be a completely logical idea for students to stand in line for basketball tickets outside of the soccer stadium. And, it seems that even if a campout fell in the middle of a July drought, sleet and snow would freeze the tent zippers.

This line of students that grows ever longer and ever earlier is not met, as one might expect, by Student Government when the campout begins. Until a representative arrives, it is left to the tired, drunk students to maintain order. Now, for those of you that have not ever camped out for tickets (which I’m imagining is four of the five people who read this column), imagine trying to stand in an orderly line at a packed frat party. One would think that college students are at an age that they can, to some semblance, govern themselves. One would be wrong. Unless by order you mean a few names scratched onto a pizza box and a shanty village of tents countering all of the school’s grooming codes.

When the crowd gets tired and cold enough, they will get angry with the people ahead of them in the pizza box tally that are not in the vicinity at present. A count off begins, that could be efficient if someone was really in charge, but instead turns into a motley brawl. In the fray, you have that clever breed of freshmen, which are, without a doubt, waiting 48 hours for 100 tickets under dictation of their own will. Realizing that some of their fellow responsible party has deserted them for food, warmth or a more academic calling, they will dance around each other and yell in a Neanderthal fashion in order to appear as a larger group. Names are cast off the list, and insults thrown — a pleasant source of entertainment before everyone retires back to their warm SUVs.

There are many obvious remedies that could be made to the system, but why bother, when we already know so clearly the proper criticisms for this one? No matter how painlessly tickets are issued, if one wants to avoid joining a T-shirt club, campouts will ensue. All I ask is the right for an open bonfire, so every time a new tribe takes control, the old box/list of names, could be ceremonially burned.