This afternoon I went to buy tickets for games three and four of the Serie del Rey, Mexican League Baseball’s version of the World Series. My local team, my favourite team, the Diablos Rojos del México will be playing Tigres de Quintana Roo. The Tigres play in Cancún and that is where games one and two will be played. It’s a best-of-seven series. I wanted to buy a ticket for the possible game five, too, but they weren’t selling them in case the game isn’t needed. (Although it’s pretty unlikely that one of the teams will win four straight games, it could happen, I suppose.)
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t buy any tickets in advance, but it’s the Serie del Rey against a team who until 2002 also played here in Mexico City. Then they upped sticks and pissed off to Puebla, before deciding they fancied hanging out at the seaside in 2006. Tigres fans here seem to be like a boy who’s still in love with a girl even though she’s got a new boyfriend. I’m kinda glad I did go and buy a ticket for the games on Tuesday and Wednesday: the section of the stadium where I normally sit was sold out for Tuesday’s game so I’ll have to sit in a cheaper section farther away from the action. Wednesday, though, I’ll be in my preferred section. But that’s not the reason for this so-far-quite-tedious post. No. The reason for this post is Justin Bieber.
You see, the ticket booths at the baseball stadium aren’t used when there’s not a game on. Instead, they use the ticket booths at the Palacio de los Deportes next door, where they sell tickets for all events going on at either venue. And one of those forthcoming events is a Beiber concert. There were five ticket windows open. Each one, helpfully, had the name of the specific events next to the wndow. Wrestling, this window; Beisbol, that window; Beiber, the one next to that; Pearl Jam, the one with the tumbleweed.
Oddly, though, the people in the baseball and Bieber queues seemed to have gotten mixed up. I was behind a mother and daughter. The guy behind the glass was pointing at various sections and telling them the prices. The mother was interested in the seated section farthest away from the singing boy; that is, the cheapest section. The daughter’s face melted, her eyes filled up, she pleaded with her mother for a ticket in a closer section. She kinda did that impatient rapid knee bending, bouncing up and down thing that teenagers do when they don’t get what they want. Her mum looked down at her in a way that said, “you’d better remember this,” opened her purse and gave her enough money to be closer. The daughter’s arms clamped around the mother. She bounced up and down again, and as the ticket guy pushed the ticket under the glass, she let out a little squeal and then started bawling her eyes out.
Then I bought the baseball tickets, bounced up and down, let out a little squeal and started bawling my eyes out.