I’d bet everything I have that my mother was never, ever expecting to hear those words come out of her daughter’s mouth again, nearly 18 years after the first time she heard them. And yet, Saturday morning at exactly 10:05 AM, that’s the phone call she received.

Those of you that have talked to me in the past few weeks know that the New Kids on the Block, aka best boy band EVER, are staging a comeback, complete with reunion tour. You also know that each and every time this is mentioned, (which is quite a lot, given my propensity to bring it up,) I revert to my 13 year old self, complete with glasses, braces, and the bad perm. I am SO, SO excited, and I’m making no apologies for it. I don’t ask for much, and this whole scenario makes me very, very happy. I’m dreaming my pre-adolescent dreams about Donnie Wahlberg again, and I’m okay with the fact that this just might make me kind of a sad person.

So since the tour information was announced, frantic phone calls have been going between myself and my sister, whose friend has some sort of deal with the devil and is getting really good seats. She can only get six, so my sister is going with her friends, and myself and my friends Autumn, Kelly, and Carrie (who attended my first concert with me) are going to sit together. This was all decided through insanely detailed phone calls and mounting hysteria.

I am in charge of tickets. Now, you know where this is going, right? I shouldn’t be in charge of things. I tend to make silly mistakes. I also tend to have bad luck, such as the computer suddenly shutting down five minutes before my deadline, the cats chewing through the cords at inopportune times, and not having enough money in my debit account. So tickets go on sale Saturday morning, 10 AM sharp. There was a presale if you had an American Express card (and btw, what kind of 30 year old doesn’t know ANYONE with an AmEx card, including her parents?) but since we didn’t, I’m stuck waiting with the rest of the almost 30 somethings that don’t have enough credit to get an AmEx.

For three nights in the week prior to the ticket sales, I have the same recurring nightmare that I am exactly seven dollars short when the price comes up and my sister won’t answer her phone to give me money. (Yes, we did have that plan, just in case.) Never mind that there was going to be close to four hundred dollars more than I needed, even if we got the most expensive tickets, so that was an impossiblity, but there it was anyway, waking me up in a cold sweat.

Saturday morning, Tony has to work (thank God, so no one had to actually witness my hysteria) and I get up and on the computer at 8:30, just in case it was 10 Eastern time, instead of 10 Central, even though it clearly stated 10 Central. I’m not taking any chances. I’m talking to my mama on the phone, and this is how we end our conversation.

Her. “Well, just in case, I would take the first seats you get, even if they’re not great. I made that mistake once and they ended up selling out.”

Me. “Duh. Of course that’s what I’m going to do. I’m not taking any chances, especially since I’m getting four.” What does she think I am, stupid?

So I’m sitting at the computer at 9:58 with Ticketmaster up and keep refreshing the screen, and it’s still saying tickets not available. At 9:59, the screen comes up to purchase tickets. Heart pounding, (and I’m not exaggerating) I put in four and wait to see what comes up, just praying that something that it isn’t something completely behind the stage. YAY!! Got through, four tickets, all the way in the back. They’re not great, and they’re the highest price range, but whatever. If that’s all they have, I’m taking them.
This is where the stupid part of my brain, the one that makes me do Jaeger bombs and eat two pounds of mashed potatoes for breakfast, the one that my mother knows exists and was worried about, hijacks my fingers and says, no, those are awful seats! And hits the BACK button, thus losing me my seats.
Okay, I think, even though my heart has sped up considerably, it’s only 10:01, just go back in. Four tickets. Wait, searching, NOOOOOOOOO!!!!! We’re sorry, tickets are unavailable for purchase at this time. Sold out!! In less than a minute!! Sold out!!! GAH!!

Now I’m saying out loud to the cats, looking on in what I deemed to be interest, this can’t be happening. This is NOT HAPPENING. I did not just lose my tickets to the only concert I have wanted to go to in 10 years because I’m an idiot. Frantically, I keep trying to go back in. My progress is slowed by those stupid little blurry fucking words that you have to type in to keep hackers out. I can’t read them due to my hysteria-induced swimming vision and have to keep asking for another one.

***Side note. What the hell are those about? I know they’re to potentially stop hackers or whatever, but could they possibly have them make some sort of sense? Cause RKLIDYHONG is hard enough to type out without being blurry and smushed together. *****

Nothing. I do this about four times and am getting NOTHING!! Panic. Call Autumn, who is not sufficiently alarmed at the situation. She seems to think that they’ll probably add another show, no big deal. (I talked to her later and she said she was actually quite worried about me. Thanks, button Can’t call Kelly, she just had an almost 7 lb child taken from her person three days ago, this is probably not top on her priorities. CARLY! She is horrified, even though she was still in bed. Right after she called me an idiot for losing the first tickets (fair enough) she starts making contingency plans and calling her friend with the in to see if he can get me a ticket.

I am ashamed to say, I am honestly near tears at this point, as much for not having tickets as mad at myself for being a moron, and I call my mommy.

“Mama!! They’re sold out and it’s only 10:15 and I can’t believe it and I screwed it up and what am I going to do??” She’s at the store, will call back. I start getting unreasonably angry with the New Kids on the Block. “What the fuck? They haven’t had a song in 15 freakin years! How dare they sell out so quick? Jerks. Why are they playing Allstate, anyway? It holds like ten people. Why not at the World Music Theater/Tweeter Center/Midwest Bank Amphitheater/insert your own corporate name here?” Cats look on in interest. Or perhaps disdain, if they can decipher what I’m upset about.

That stops quickly, because, really, I can’t blame the best band ever for being so popular. There are probably thousands of girls like me all over the place, most of them with toddlers and real jobs instead of cats, who want to go as bad as I do. Panic. Light cigarette in bedroom (explicitly forbidden) in my distress and keep trying. Nothing. Get two tickets, debate the merits of this with Autumn, wait too long, and lose the tickets. Have I learned nothing?

Panic some more. Cry a little. Light another cigarette, although this time I remember to open the window. Mama calls. “Okay, I’m going on the computer, do you want me to try? If I get through I’ll call you.” Love Mama. Feel like I am 12 again, desperately pushing the redial button with Carrie, trying to get tickets to the 1990 show, dramatically announcing that I HAVE to go this concert or life is not worth living.

Talk to Carly, all the while trying to figure out those stupid little codes and trying, unsuccessfully, to get another four tickets. She also recognizes the severity of the situation and tries to come up with alternatives. Phone beeps, it’s Autumn, wanting to know if I’ve made progress. NO. Phone beeps again, it’s Mama.

“Okay, I just started putting in two tickets and I have two right behind the stage, what’s your credit card number?” She sounds almost as frantic as myself. I wonder how many other 30 year old females are having the hysteria I am and whether they had to involve their mothers. Almost cry with joy, start to give it to her, when the screen pops up — “Purchase these four tickets?”

EUREKA!! “Never mind, Mama, I got some! Thanks, bye!” And without looking, do the first intelligent thing I’ve done all day, which is hit YES. I am now the proud recipient of four New Kids on the Block tickets in section 205, row nosebleed, which are situated at a direct diagonal angle behind the stage, which probably means we will be able to see nothing. But whatever!! I’m going!! Woo-hoo!!

Am now spending all of my time stalking radio stations in order to win better seats where I may have a chance of actually seeing the tops of their heads or at least make out the form of bodies as opposed to the back of a giant screen, which is probably what I’ll be seeing. The friends that I’m going with have been nice enough not to be upset with me for being a moron, either because they love me or they don’t care that much.

Tony, on the other hand? “I figured you would screw it up. I just thought you’d be in the bathroom, not do something stupid like not take the tickets that you had.” While I do have the unfortunate luck of being in the bathroom for many important occasions (touchdowns at Bears games, home runs at Cubs games, first dances at weddings and such) I still say that was mean. Whatever. Just for that, he’s been listening to all New Kids, all the time, since then.

So as happy as I am for even getting tickets at all, I’m telling you right now, if my little sister and her friends up with tenth row and end up on the stage cause they’re all gorgeous, my inner bad perm pre-teen is going to completely lose her shit and you will probably hear about me on the news.

Hang tough.