Intrigue On The Conan Line

So this morning, I awoke at 7am. "Why Geoff, you're in vacation!" you may be saying, if you knew I was on vacation. "Why would you wake up at 7am?" "Because I wanted to try to get stand-by tickets to see a taping of Late Night with Conan O'Brien," I would hypothetically respond. "Oh, that's pretty cool," you say, maybe.

My friend Kay and I figured we'd better get there well before the suggested 9am arrival time to beat the rush. Well we made it there at 7:45, and did not beat the rush by any means. My rough count was that we were 66th and 67th on line. Things were not looking good.

The first hour went by without incident. I ate some marble cake. Read some of Kay's Times, sat on the "Escapes" section. Talked with a very nice couple from Texas standing in front of us, listened to Elvis Costello give a "Today" concert down the block. You know, basic New York stuff.

About the time a man came out to explain the stand-by ticket procedure, our female Texas friend noticed an unwelcome addition to our group. Two young ladies were strangely standing between us and our Texan friends, but off to the right, clearly attempting to escape notice. We started whispering at first. Had they been there all along? No, they definitely had not been. Were they trying to cut us? Yes, they were.

Slowly we started speaking louder and louder, wondering quite loudly what we should do about it and indicating that we were certainly not giving up our space on Conan's stand-by ticket line. At one point female-Texas-friend went right up to them and said "You know, the line ends back there." The ladies ignored her completely.

Now it was my turn, as it was Kay and I that they were actually cutting. I civilly indicated that we were after the Texans. One of the ladies, pleasant as pie, responded "Oh, should I move? Would THAT make you feel better?" I said yes, yes it would. They waddled a few steps behind us, continuing to try to cut the rest of the line. As I was about to indicate that this was probably still not good enough, this same winner of a person said "You're not from around here, are you?"

(Quick aside: what was she insinuating? That cutting is an acceptable part of New York culture? That only touristy hicks would stand up for themselves? That that's the way we DO IT in Noo Yawk and tough balls if ya don't like it? What the hell is that? Anyway.)

I indicated I was from around here. She said "Oh."

The ladies behind us were none too pleased about this turn of affairs also. An older lady, one of the doddering types but still as sharp as a whip, repeatedly attempted charging the two ladies, presumably to tell them off, but maybe to kick their asses. She also started wailing "Who do they think they are? Conan, help us! Where's Conan when you need him?" She was great.

She was held at bay by another woman, I assume her daughter. Unfortunately for our cutting friends, she was clearly from around here, muttering: "They're not cutting me. I'm from the BRONX." And as soon as the line started moving, she whirled around to the rest of the line, pointing at the cutters and shouting "THEY ARE NOT ON LINE! THEY ARE CUTTING THE LINE!"

The cutters were thus naturally expunged from the line and everyone starting with the people five spots ahead of us on line was rejected in the order they arrived.

Only in New York, kids!