Whose ticket is it anyway?

Monday morning, a good portion of Princeton's student body was extremely frustrated with the egregious situation regarding the sale of "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" tickets. Of about 1,000 seats in Richardson Auditorium, some 580 were reserved — and purchased — by members of the senior class. Then, 9:00 a.m. Monday marked the opening of the Frist ticket window for the sale of the remaining 420 to the other three classes of students.

I had heard of the ability to bring friends' proxes (and cash or checks) to the ticket window for those who were unfortunate enough to have class at 9 a.m. on Monday morning. "Fair enough," I thought. Everybody should have a chance at seeing such a cool show. I decided to set aside a significant amount of Sunday night to offering to collect friends' proxes and money and planning how I would buy the tickets, eat breakfast, and go to my classes while somehow getting their cards back as soon as possible. I knew that many people would be gathering these PUIDs as I was, so I got in line by 7:45 a.m. I sat down at the end of the queue that surprisingly — at least to me — already contained some 40 people.

"7:45," I thought to myself. My friends will be extra pleased that I got even better seats than I would have if I had arrived at 8:00 as I had promised them. And I'll probably go get breakfast at about 9:05 because once the window opens these 40 of us will make our purchases quickly. At about 9:15, standing on the central stairs (since the line got rerouted to avoid blocking traffic), and not having moved forward at all, I began to realize that crowds of people were physically cutting in front, down on the 100 level by the computers and even up closer by the window. As 10:00 approached (and I was still ticketless), people who had just woken up sauntered in to dump loads of proxes onto people in the front of the line. Therefore, as I waited longer, I was effectively pushed further away from the tickets. I realized that my effort had been for naught; my planning and waking up early was gaining me nothing.

As you may have guessed, after waiting more than two and a half hours in line, I finally came within sight of the box office just to have the sign COMPLETELY SOLD OUT slammed on the window. I was — and am — furious. Too many times at this school have I followed the rules only to lose.

For me to claim that I have been wronged, I must declare what was my right. People have a right to a secure place in line because each has a right to a chance determined by his/her effort. Since, arguably, many students have legitimate reasons not to be able to stand in line for tickets (such as class), a representative system has been allowed. Sensibly, Frist chose to open the ticket window early in the morning so that the people — or their representatives — with the most desire (indicated by the effort of who woke up early enough to get the first places in line) could claim the best seats. So, if a prox doesn't arrive until 9:50, obviously neither its owner nor whoever could have been its representative contributed enough effort to earn a decent chance at good seats. What student could possibly walk up to the front of the line (or anywhere but the back) and ask someone to purchase tickets on his/her behalf, knowing that it would decrease the chances — and happiness — of everyone behind that point?

However, while the system encourages this behavior that some people may call immoral, the legal "cheating" is nearly a requirement for people who actually want to see the show. Students are in the middle of a conflict. Logic tells them to act in two different ways. I wanted both to do what so many other people were doing, which would lead me to my goal and also to remain a moral and praiseworthy person. In order for fairness, the system must change. Frist/Richardson should consider a limit on the number of friends' proxes. Apparently, if students don't sign a pledge while purchasing tickets, we cannot let the ticket sales go unproctored.

Ryan Walsh is a sophomore from Alpharetta, Ga.