Denise and I were looking for European music festivals. We found one in Poland, called the Open’er Festival. Headliners include Kendrick Lamar, Lizzo, Arctic Monkeys, Li’l Nas X, and Sza.
Denise quoted the ticket price, which was quite reasonable. I looked over her shoulder and saw a reference to VIP tickets. “How much for the VIP tickets?” I asked.
We have gone to a lot of music festivals, that’s our jam, but we have never purchased back stage passes or VIP tickets. No sir. We don’t ride in limousines, fly first class, or eat name brand peanut butter. We are common folk. General admission suits us just fine. That’s why Denise responded with a quizzical look.
“I’m just curious.”
Denise scrolled through a couple pages. “I don’t see a price.”
My idle curiosity got off the couch. “Why don’t you send an email? Ask them.”
The response came two days later. The festival organizers wrote, “The VIP area is a unique place where a very limited number of places is available for the comfort of our guests. For this reason, VIP tickets are not sold to anyone interested.” The email went on to explain that we would need to tell them about our “status” before they would consider selling us VIP tickets.
Denise laughed at the explicit snobbery. She suggested I respond. I complied with this email:
My wife, Denise Stageman, sent an email inquiry about the purchase of VIP tickets. You responded that VIP tickets are not sold to just anyone. We infer that we must justify to you our claim to be Very Important People.
Denise is by nature a shy and humble woman, despite being breathtakingly gorgeous and a generous lover, so she asked that I offer our justification. That justification follows:
Despite the disadvantage of having started our lives as helpless babies, we quickly learned to walk and feed ourselves. We advanced so quickly that even our parents, all of whom were known to be very discriminating, loved us.
I know what you are thinking. You are thinking, “Dan, most parents claim to love their children, even the very ugly ones.”
That is a valid point, but I have only just begun.
When a young woman, Denise traveled the world. She lived in Germany and the Seychelles and Seattle. She had to keep moving because she is so stunningly beautiful that men kept falling in love with her. She nonetheless achieved a Masters degree and became a famous artist and art teacher.
I went to college and then law school. I became a lawyer.
I know what you are thinking. You do not like lawyers. However, that is not fair. Not all lawyers are bad people. It is just that 99% of the lawyers make the rest of us look bad.
I am the author of two books. My first was a comic legal thriller called The Bug’s Revenge.
My second book was about Donald Trump, so it was hilarious, even though it contains no jokes and is about a nearly successful attempt to overturn a democratic election. It is called All the President’s Shysters.
I do not like to brag, but I have sold tens of both books. They have received rave reviews, including one or two by people not hoping to be in my will.
I pray that you consider us for the VIP Lounge so that we can avoid the hoi polloi.
The festival organizers did not respond as we expected. After three days they sent an email telling us the price and asking how many VIP tickets we wanted.
The price was more than we had ever paid for festival tickets, but not nearly so much as we expected. We would be given sheltered seats close to the main stage, and a bartender would offer a limited number of free mixed drinks and all the free beer we can consume. There probably are other advantages but this is the point at which I stopped reading. I was sold.
Denise and I presently are in Budapest. That’s because Denise, who is dogged in her determination to always find the best possible deal, discovered that a direct flight to Warsaw would be substantially more expensive than flying first to Hungary, and then to Poland. If we wanted to go to Budapest some day (we did), now would be the time to do it.
I will tell you all about Budapest. For now, however, I just want to say that we flew here on a Hungarian airline. It is called Wizz Air.
Insert your own joke here.
was the airplane yellow?