They say good things come to those who wait. That karma will find all those who do good in this world. That good deeds come back threefold to the doer…And various other epithets that basically in the vein of ‘do a nice thing and nice things happen to you’.
Today I did a nice thing.
In quite a random sequence of events, my housemate and I were doing our usual pasttime of lying on the sofa watching whatever film is on our shoddily set up freeview box (tonight- Platoon) while frantically trying to get tickets for the not-so-secret gig by The Strokes in Camden. At Dingwalls. Cheekily renamed as ‘Venison’.
Alas, our efforts were thwarted by the fact that this small Camden pub’s website couldn’t handle the complete rogering its server got as thousands of Strokes fans tried to buy their £10 tickets for a band who were “formerly The Shitty Beatles”. That and there were only 450 tickets. Defeated we returned to watching Platoon, our hearts as severely destroyed as that poor Vietnamese village.
Next thing, I get a text from our soon-to-be housemate, moving in tomorrow, and I quote:
“So, I don’t suppose any of you guys like The Strokes (band)? Got a spare ticket for a secret gig they’re doing in Camden tomorrow and no one I know can make it”.
Shit. It was like Sophie’s Choice. Well no…not really. Much less which child do I love a little bit less and more how many brownie points and leverage would I get if I let him take the ticket? I genuinely don’t know when I have ever seen someone so excited- pure jubilation. Probably one of those natural highs people always talk about.
I decide to man up and stand down. I’ll make him pay me back one day. He is currently playing The Strokes back catalogue incredibly loudly. And no doubt will get the guitar out shortly.
I like making people happy.
However, it has to be said, amidst all the excitement, desperation, tweetytweets and general online frenzy that has been going on this evening, I couldn’t help but giggle at the startling similarities to one of my guiltiest pleasures, Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist and their search for Where’s Fluffy? Which, unlike ‘The Shitty Beatles’, I feel sounds a little like a low budget porn- caper….although I am not sure that is an actual sub-genre of porn. Who knows…
That small part of me, the small voice that said ‘Give him the ticket’ secretly hopes that life will finally be like the movies and instead of being treated to a no doubt incredible intimate set by The Strokes, they’ll see Are You Randy?
This would make me happy.
He owes me big time.