So, I heard Kevin Hart's gonna be in Portland. Yeah, the Kevin Hart. My buddy, Dave, shot me a text, like, "Dude, Hart's coming to Keller Auditorium, August 24th!" Instantly, I was like, "We are SO there." You know how it is when one of your favorite comedians is in town. You just gotta make it happen.
The Grand Plan (or so I thought)
First thing I did, naturally, was to start hitting up the group chat. "Who's in for Kevin Hart?" Threw it out there. You get the usual mix: a couple of "Hell yeahs!", a few "Maybes, let me check my schedule," and that one guy who always says "Sounds cool!" but you know he's never gonna commit. Classic. But hey, I was determined. Even if it was just me and Dave, we were going.
The next step was figuring out the tickets. This is where the real "practice," the real grind, began. I’m not new to this game; buying tickets for big shows these days feels like training for the Olympics. Seriously.
- I marked the on-sale date on my calendar. Big red circle. Multiple alarms.
- Did a bit of pre-research on the venue, Keller Auditorium, trying to figure out best seating sections without selling a kidney.
- Warned my boss I might be "distracted" for a bit on sale morning. He just laughed. He knows the drill.
The Ticket Battle Royale
Alright, so the day comes. I’m logged in, multiple browser tabs open – you know the drill. That little waiting room screen, the one with the tiny man walking, taunting you. Tick-tock, tick-tock. My heart’s pounding a bit, not gonna lie. It’s like, will I get lucky? Or will I be refreshing for an hour only to see "Sold Out"?
Then, bam! I'm in. And what do I see? The prices. Oh. My. God. Seriously, what is up with these ticket prices lately? It's like they see you coming. "Dynamic pricing," they call it. I call it robbery. Seats that should be reasonable are suddenly costing an arm and a leg. And the fees! Don't even get me started on the fees. Service fee, facility fee, breathing-the-same-air-as-the-ticket-website fee. It’s nuts.
I was clicking around like a madman, trying to find decent seats that wouldn’t require me to eat ramen for a month. Some sections were already gone. Poof! Vanished. Probably all scooped up by bots, who knows. It’s a jungle out there. I even saw some "platinum" tickets. Fancy name for "we're gonna charge you triple 'cause we can."
After what felt like an eternity, constantly refreshing, almost giving up, I managed to snag a couple. Not the best seats in the house, not by a long shot. Kinda in the rafters, you know? But hey, we're in. That’s the important part, I guess. My wallet’s definitely feeling lighter, though. Way lighter than I wanted it to.
So, What's the Takeaway?
The whole process was, frankly, a pain. It always is. You get excited for a show, and then you have to go through this digital gauntlet. But am I still gonna go see Kevin Hart? You bet I am. I’ll just have to bring binoculars, probably. And maybe pack my own snacks, 'cause after those ticket prices, I ain't affording auditorium prices for a soda.
It’s just wild how much effort and cash it takes to just go laugh for a couple of hours. But hey, that's the world we live in, right? At least I've got my story of the great Portland ticket hunt of 2024. And hopefully, Kevin Hart will be worth every penny and every frustrating click. We'll see come August.
