Growing up, if someone were to tell you they had box seats, you knew exactly what they meant and you were fucking envious of them.
They were sitting in the first few rows and experiencing an event in a way that won’t soon be forgotten. At the same token, it always seemed like those tickets were given to you; never purchased. I don’t actually think they ever went on sale to the general public. No one actually knew who the owner was. The only way to get your hands on box seats was through your dad’s boss, an uncle who knew a guy, raffle prize or some sort of radio show call-in contest. The point is those tickets had an aura about them.
I yearn for a simpler time when tickets were sold in three-to-four options upper deck and/or second tier (depends on the venue), floor level and box seats – that’s it. No bells and whistles, no dynamic ticket pricing, no hidden electronic fees, nothing to complain about; you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into with your ticket.
If you want to see your dad’s face light up, just ask him about that time he had box seats growing up. For a generation even older than I – I’m fast approaching 30 – that was as good as it got. It was the equivalent to winning the lottery for a day.
Nowadays, stadium seating has lost all rhyme or reason. There are endless seating options available. We are deceived with fancy words into spending a full paychecks worth on nosebleed seats that came with some sort of ‘exclusive’ club access. If you’re sitting anywhere other than the first few rows, your club access is far from exclusive. But it’s cool because you can pay double – something I didn’t think was possible – what a regular concession stand charges for a beer!
I don’t want to sit in a section where my best view of the event is on the jumbotron. A new trick seems to be installing HDTV’s all around obstructed view. That’s a whole other story in its own right. Why am I here if I’m going to watch on TV? I wouldn’t have bothered to put pants on tonight and just stayed on my couch if that’s what I wanted to do. The fact that I have to scroll down to view all available seating options on your website/app is a problem. It’s like looking at a diner’s menu; it never seems to end.
When it comes to box seats, they cease to exist as I once knew them. The attraction was that you would have the best seats in the house and that was all you needed to know. It wasn’t about the sushi bar, champagne flutes, tuna tartar, exclusive clubs, shrimp cocktail and caviar. When did box seats become an episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians?
These seats no longer fall into the hands of the average fan on occasion that will have a once in a lifetime experience. No, they now they fall into the lap of a potential client who’s just there for the lobster mac and cheese and isn’t even sure who the opponent is. Okay, lobster mac and cheese does sound good.
If you’re a team in the midst of designing a new stadium/arena, remember these words: keep it simple stupid. Nobody needs a seat that comes with 3D glasses and a high tech big screen view.
I miss the allure of getting my hands on a pair of box seats.
In a completely unrelated note, I need a corporate job and a raise. .
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