Pay It Forward.

“Now I been lookin' for a job but it's hard to find / Down here it's just winners and losers / And don't get caught on the wrong side of that line / Well I'm tired of comin' out on this losin' end / So honey last night I met this guy / And I'm gonna do a little favor for him.”  For the past 10 years, I have lived a world in which bartering has been a form of currency:  tickets for haircuts, tickets for pizza, and tickets for drinks are a few exchanges that I have been a part of in and around Pittsburgh.  But surprisingly, it was an event that I could not land tickets to in which I received a life lesson and favor.

Living in Washington DC in the mid-1990s there was no hometown baseball team to root for during the season.  If you wanted to attend a game in-person you needed to drive a car out to Bowie for the AA-Baysox (the Calvin Pickering “Cheeseburger” chant story is for another time) or you needed to take the MARC train to Baltimore which dropped you off right outside Camden Yards.

In the spring of 1995, my friends and I figured out what date/game that Cal Ripken would break Lou Gehrig’s unbelievable record of consecutive games played.  We circled September 6, 1995 on the calendar and then went our separate ways for the summer.  Upon our return from the break, every one of my friends, for a variety of excuses, backed out of the trip to Charm City and I was left to fend for myself.

The atmosphere around the stadium was electric and between the memorabilia outside and trading with fans thru the iron grate fence for memorabilia only available inside, for me it was like a Middle Eastern shook meets New Year’s Eve in Times Square.  When I realized that I would not be able to score a ticket get into the game, I grabbed myself dinner and drinks and watched on a large screen right outside of the stadium.   And then once the game became official, I made my way over to the MARC train platform only to find that I had my return train ticket, but $0 in my pocket. 

Standing and waiting with another couple, an announcement was made that the next MARC train for Washington DC would not be leaving until 1 hour after the game concluded.  Immediately the other couple that I was standing with decided that they were going to hustle to Penn Station-Baltimore to see if they could catch an Amtrak train back to Washington DC. They were surprised when I did not want to share a cab with them to the station.  I quickly explained my financial situation and the man insisted that we would sort it out at the train station.  However upon arriving at the train station, the train was boarding and the man again said we would sort out the cost of the ticket on the actual train.  When we finally found ourselves situated on the train, he explained that he did not want me to pay him back, but down the line to provide tickets to someone else at no cost for a ballgame or concert.

In the cultural circle and parking lots surrounding the Grateful Dead and their live shows, “I need a miracle” has been one of the more common pleas for a ticket to that night’s show.  I worked for a concert promoter at the time of my experience in Baltimore and very quickly my +1 the remainder of that fall would go to the person standing in line in back of me at the box office window waiting to purchase a ticket.  The look of surprise and happiness never got old and still does not.   Now working in the ticketing industry and having the opportunity to help family, friends and sometimes complete strangers reminds me of other lyrics, “What would you do if I sang out of tune / Would you stand up and walk out on me? / Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song / And I'll try not to sing out of key / Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends.”

Thanks for reading.