Last Friday, Gina, Jayme, and I set out on an adventure that I was sure would be a visual and listening extravaganza the likes of which I’ve never borne witness to before. It was…INCUBUS at MADISON SQUARE GARDEN. The event of the summer! The concert of the decade! An evening of music and lust!!

Somehow, in the past year, Gina, Jayme, and I had developed a preteen-like obsession with the band known as Incubus. Or, more accurately, a preteen-like obsession with the band’s Lead Singer: Brandon Boyd. The hottest, sexiest, and, for lack of a better word, coolest, lead singer in the whole wide world. (Inculust: The act of becoming unrealistically infatuated with Brandon Boyd of Incubus. Manifestations of said condition include purchasing the “When Incubus Attacks” DVD and three of their latest albums in the span of 2 weeks, as well as dreaming that you will use Mike the guitarist to get to Brandon.) Upon finding out that the band would be gracing the stage of Madison Square Garden in our very own hometown, New York City, we immediately logged on to ticketmaster (who then charged us 30% of the price of the ticket in fees + our first born sons), and purchased the tickets. Granted, the seats weren’t in the first row, in fact, they weren’t even in the 311th row, but that wasn’t important to us. What was important to us was that we were going to be in the same room as Brandon Boyd. I immediately began practicing my swooning techniques, and four long arduous months later, tickets in hand, we headed off to the concert.

Out of habit we arrived late to the show. Usually a tardy arrival to a concert does not result in any sort of trouble. Due to the fact that rock stars are notoriously late to anything and everything, and the fact most shows are general admission anyway, we usually make arriving late a goal to achieve, rather than an obstacle to overcome. There’s nothing better than showing up at a concert at the precise time the main act goes on. None of that waiting around and listening to opening acts for the likes of us (Unless, of course the opening act is our reason for being there.) As seasoned concertgoers, we were fairly confident that we’d perfected the whole process. However, compared to most concert venues, Madison Square Garden is a completely different animal. First of all, due to the fact that the workers who set up and clean up the show are unionized, the concerts MUST start and end on time. A fact that I found out last year at an Aerosmith concert, when the lights came on just as “Walk This Way” was really picking up steam. Even the pleadings of a sequin-clad Steven Tyler and the gyrating, shirtless Joe Perry could not convince the union workers to send us back into darkness for the remainder of the finale. The second reason that we should have arrived on time was due to the simple fact that we had to locate our seats. This accomplishment may not sound difficult in and of itself, it turned out however to be one of the most difficult tasks of my life. Why you ask? I will tell you why…

After we arrived at the Garden, we began the long and arduous journey up to the 300 level where our seats (allegedly) were. Much to our chagrin, as we stepped into the 300 level corridor, we heard our beloved Brandon singing his heart out. We glanced at each other in horror and ran immediately to section 312, the home of our (alleged) seats. After purchasing some semi-flat beer in plastic cups, we entered the arena. There he was. Live and in the flesh. It was too good to be true. Giddy as schoolgirls, we asked the Usher where we could find our seats. She pointed ambiguously up a flight of very dark stairs, into the abyss of the crowd. Section 312, Row K, Seats 1-3. How hard could it be to find the first three seats on the aisle you ask? Well it’s extraordinarily difficult. Extremely, ridiculously, absurdly, difficult. I’ve been to the Garden for sporting events many a time, and even then, with the bright lights shining overhead, you STILL need someone to point out where your row is. After searching for a while in vain, we decided to sit down on the steps and try to enjoy the concert as best we could. For a blissful 30 seconds or so we got to watch our darling Brandon sing us a song. I was singing along to a lovely ballad when I was interrupted by the girl in the seat next to me. (Which, incidentally, could have likely been MY seat.) She tapped my shoulder and nastily asked me to get out of her way. I watched her tromp down the stairs in her cheap stilettos and too-tight jeans and walk right up to the usher. I knew straight away what was going down. The usher looked up at us and immediately began attempting to blind us with her flashlight. Rather than using her flashlight for the intended purpose of SHOWING PEOPLE TO THEIR SEATS, she had instead decided to use it as a weapon in her quest to prevent people from enjoying themselves. Regardless, the message was clear: We were not allowed to be sitting on the steps. We gathered our belongings and walked down the stairs. The beeeyatch that told on us stood triumphantly as we tried to explain the reason why we were sitting on her precious steps. We told the Usher that we were trying to find our seats and that we simply couldn’t locate them on our own. “Please help us,” we pleaded. While she inspected our tickets with skepticism, I made the mistake of telling the little tattletale that got us in trouble that she could have simply asked us to move if we were bothering her. The bridge-and-tunnel-wannabe-Incubus-fan told us that Jayme had apparently spilled beer on her too tight jeans, and that is was UNACCEPTABLE that we sit on the stairs. She informed that SHE paid for her seats, and she didn’t deserve to be disturbed. This further fueled my rage, and a small verbal battle ensued. I admit that it was stupid on my part to engage this fool in a battle of words, but I couldn’t help myself. The concert was going on before my very eyes and I was missing it. As she stomped back up the stairs, I kept hoping she would fall down. She did not.

Jayme, Gina, and I then tried to convince the Usher to do the job that she was being paid to do, and show us to the seats that rightfully belonged to us. She refused. We asked the other usher standing right next to her. He refused. We made the decision “look” for the seats again, headed out, and promptly started down closer to the stage in an effort to find somewhere to sit. We found another set of stairs to hang out on, and again enjoyed a few moments of Incu-bliss. But alas, the reverie was interrupted by yet another evil beam of light, and we were promptly kicked off THAT set of stairs. I ran up the stairs away from the light, thinking that Gina and Jayme were following closely behind me. Unfortunately I was mistaken, and I was alone. Thus began my solo quest to watch the concert that was rightfully mine to watch.

The remainder of the evening basically consisted of me saying the same thing OVER and OVER and OVER again to people who could really care less about my plight. My first step in this quest was to attempt to locate Gina and Jayme. I had a vague idea of what row I had left them in, although when I tried to go back to find them, I was stopped by Usher #312. I explained to her that I was trying to find my friends; she then looked at my ticket, told me that I was going the wrong way and asked me to go back to my seat. I said, “Okay. Yes, please…I would love to go back to my seat. Unfortunately I have never been to my seat. I cannot find my seat, and I would appreciate your help in accomplishing this task.” She said she couldn’t help me. “How then,” I said, “ Am I supposed to go back to my seat?” She did not know. “Where then,” I said, “Am I supposed to go?” She informed me that if I weren’t going to go to my seat I would have to stand behind “That Line.” She pointed to the floor where there was clearly no line at all. Completely exasperated, I went out into the corridor and found that Gina had left me several messages inquiring as to whereabouts. I had several abbreviated conversations with her trying to explain where I was and what had happened to me. (I couldn’t really explain at that point, seeing that I did not even understand what had happened to me.) From our short and somewhat confusing exchange, I gathered that she and Jayme had found seats very near where I had originally lost them. They informed me that they had a great view of the stage, and would stay put till I found them. Since at that point I really had nothing to lose, I decided make another go at it. I attempted to go through an alternate entrance to avoid the evil usher who guarded the gate at section 312. Unfortunately the guard at 314 was also spawned from Satan, and wouldn’t let me through. He said that he could only let me through to the seat listed on my ticket, which, OF COURSE, he could not show me to. So…I stormed back to aisle 312, where I was again blocked by Evil Usher #312. It was at this point that I really began to get upset. With tears in my eyes, I pleaded my case for what I sensed would be the last time. I begged her to do the job she was being paid to do, and to show me to my seat. She refused. When I asked to see her supervisor, she grabbed my arm and walked me through the corridor, right out into the stairwell. “So now you’ve decided to play the roll of Usher?” I said as she “ushered” me right out the door. She informed me that it would be best if I went home. I then saw a security guard standing by the window. “AT LAST,” I thought, “Someone reasonable to deal with.” As I walked up to him, Usher #312 informed him that she thought I was drunk and that he should escort me out of the building. (I was NOT drunk by the way, and even if I was, that surely can’t be a reason to deny someone their right to sit in their own seat.) At this point, I realized that it was over. Finished. It just wasn’t meant to be. With my head held high, and tears in my eyes, I informed the rent-a-cop that he need not escort me anywhere. I would leave on my own. And leave I did.

On the long walk down the stairs many thoughts were running through my head. First and foremost I just couldn’t believe what had happened to me. In the name of all that was fair and just, I certainly had every right to see that concert. I did get a little belligerent towards the end, but what normal person would not have. The whole evening had turned into an Abbott and Costello routine. It even crossed my mind that perhaps an elaborate joke had been played on me. Maybe I would walk out the doors of MSG and find a camera crew from some sort of silly reality game show. “Ha! The joke’s on you!” they would say. Then perhaps Gina and Jayme would pop out of a bush; balloons in hand, and tell me that I was being videotaped the entire time. They would bring the usher out, ask me to look into her nametag, and tell me to “Say hello to the viewing audience!!” We’d all laugh and hug. I’d be embarrassed, but also a little bit relieved. Maybe I’d even be rewarded a prize for surviving the night. Right? No…Wrong. This did not happen. Instead, I walked out the doors into the beautiful summer night, and was greeted not with cameras and prizes, but instead by a deserted plaza right outside of the building. Only a smattering of people was gathered in the area outside of Madison Square Garden. The concert was still going strong…why the hell would anyone leave now?? Perhaps they got kicked out too? Who knows? I sat outside for a bit, left Gina several lengthy voicemail messages about the horrendous experience, and walked dejectedly to the subway.

The subway ride home was long and aggravating. (Clearly a theme for the night.) For a brief moment, I blamed Incubus, but then quickly decided that that was a silly decision. I’m sure the boys in the band didn’t know how atrociously the evil MSG employees were treating their loyal fans. No, no, I decided that the entire force of my blame would rest solely on the very large shoulders of Madison Square Garden and it’s employees. Damn you all to hell! You ruined my night!! You ruined my concert!!! You almost ruined my love for Incubus!!! I then questioned myself about what to do about this horrible incident. I decided my first course of action was going to be to write a letter to The Garden, telling them exactly what had happened to me. In this letter I will implicate Ushers #312 & #314 as perpetrators of unspeakable wrongdoing. I will indicate that these two so-called “Ushers” failed miserably at their jobs, and should be punished, or at least made to feel a little bit bad. I’d settle for either one. More importantly though, I made the command decision to never set foot in Madison Square Garden for a concert ever again. The scars were too fresh, and the depths of my hatred ran too deep. MSG will join the other concert venues that currently occupied my boycotted venue list. (Actually, Roseland is the only other venue on this list. This is due to a horrendous experience at a Cake show a while back. Again, the band itself was great. It was the patrons, not the ushers this time, who made the experience horrible. They stood around chatting with each other as if at a cocktail party instead of a concert, treating the band as if there were merely playing background music at a wedding reception. Incidentally, that was the 3rd or 4th time that this had happened at Roseland. ) I do suppose though that if I keep adding names to this boycott list, I could potentially end up with no place to go see live music, which could be a major problem. Unless of course, in the near future I become very wealthy, and can afford to pay rock stars large sums of money to play private concerts for me and my 10 closest friends. Since the likelihood of this occurring is slim to none, perhaps I need to start being less critical about the venues hosting these concerts. If I’m not careful I’ll end up by myself in my apartment watching “Incubus, Live from Belgrade” on my little 13-inch television set. Hardly the rockin’ night. Perhaps instead I can add an addendum to the boycott list, making it okay to go to these places if it is a band that I really, really, really, want to see. For the time being though, I will remain steadfast in my conviction. Madison Square Garden…SHAME ON YOU!!