Yo Gabba Gabba or Bust! In Search of The Golden Tickets

By Diane Clehane

When I was a child, my parents were pretty good about taking my brother and me to various special events like the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey circus, the Ice Capades (my personal favorite), or whatever the big movie of the moment was (I have particularly fond memories of going to see Doctor Doolittle starring Rex Harrison in the grandest theater in our town).

They were fun family outings for all. I never remember either one of my parents recounting the experiences as fraught with peril. We wanted to go, my parents got the tickets, and we went. End of story.

I was reminded of this simpler time when, this past weekend, my husband and I tried to get tickets to the live show of Yo Gabba Gabba, one of my daughter’s favorite programs on Noggin (now Nick Jr.) scheduled for next month in New York City at the Beacon Theatre. I had torn the ad, which said tickets went on sale on Friday at 10 am for two shows, out of New York magazine and posted it on the refrigerator. Because I had an appointment that morning, I asked my husband to buy the tickets.

When I asked how he’d done, he reported that both the website and phone lines were jammed and when he’d finally gotten through a little before noon on Friday, they were sold out.

After wishing I’d done this myself in the first place, I called the American Express concierge service for Platinum Card members on Friday night. It had had a block of tickets reserved but had sold out as well. I was impressed, however, at how apologetic the representative was and how obliging he’d been about exploring other ways to get them, including by contacting brokers. The rep warned me the tickets would be pricier than the face value ($40—$75) , but I told the rep to see what was available and get back to me. He promised he’d have something for me by the next morning.

At the same time, I got the brilliant idea to post a request on my Facebook page imploring all my “media insider” friends to give me some suggestions on how I might score what obviously were the hottest tickets around for the preschool set.

A little after midnight, a childhood pal of mine posted that she’d gone online to check things out and that there were still some tickets available. She also told me where she found them. (Finally, something productive to come of all the time I’ve spent on Facebook!) I went to bed a happy camper, having scored three tickets in the first row of the center balcony over the orchestra—for a just-added 5 pm show (a much saner option than the 11 am show that was first advertised anyway). By then, a few other friends in media had also posted some helpful suggestions on how we might make the show even more fun for my daughter—and, truth be told, for me as well.

Mission accomplished.

I was even more relieved I’d gotten the golden tickets when an Amex representative called back a little before 9 am on Saturday (yes, you read that right) to report that brokers were offering seats for the show at a scandalous rate of $300! I’m guessing they haven’t heard we’re in a bit of a recession.

Somehow, I just can’t imagine my parents going anywhere near these lengths to get us tickets to anything. Perhaps that’s because parents didn’t take on these things as personal missions (guilty as charged) and if they didn’t get tickets, the kids didn’t go. No big deal.

Now that we were part of the select group who will see Deejay Lance and all those colorful characters in person, I called my daughter into the kitchen to show her the ad I’d torn out and said, “You see this picture of your favorites from Yo Gabba Gabba? We’re going to see them in a special show in New York City next month. Aren’t you excited?”

“Yes,” she answered sounding less than enthused. “But what about the Elmo show at the County Center? We go to that every year. Are we still going to go to that?”

Paging all my Facebook pals...