Politics, open government, and safe streets. And the constant incursion of cycling.

My Career as a Scalper

My career as a scapler started – and probably finished – this past weekend.  I found myself in front of the 9:30 Club with two extra UB40 tickets (unexpected last minute bails).  I’d tell you to stop snickering, but maybe you aren’t – the show was sold out, so apparently there are a number of fans around.  I was just about to head inside when I heard someone lamenting that there weren’t any scaplers out there, and that they were about to head home.  Well, the smart thing to do was turn around and offer the ticket for twice the face value, right?  Probably.  I, on the other hand, turned and offered a ticket at face value.  Sold! in a nanosecond.  This transaction (replete with me fumbling around with a pocket full of cash on V St.) brought at least three people rushing over to me to buy any remaining tickets.  A classic marketplace, right?  Clearly time for a bit of supply-side pricing pressure.  Instead, I just picked the most excited looking person and offered him the ticket at face value, since I couldn’t very well charge him more than I had the previous purchaser, no?

Yeah, I don’t think I’ve much of a future in scapling.


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Dear Leader


  1. Hey, you did the classy thing and walked away with your self-respect intact. That should make up for the indignity of being bailed on for a UB40 show.

  2. MB

    True. Some people don’t understand that . . .

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