Tom Vartabedian
I am not a person of affluence, much less influence. But I do know important people in strategic places, which makes me grateful whenever I need a favor.
I've called upon my share of contacts to secure good seats at a theater, sporting event, even a choice restaurant. Consequently, people have also called me for accommodations.
Because I wrote sports for many years, they figured I had an automatic pipeline into Fenway Park for the Red Sox or to The Garden for a Celtics game.
"C'mon," they used to say. "You know the ropes. Can't you get us into the front row?"
They thought I knew the owners or the coaches when, in reality, all I could manage was a press pass for myself on occasion. And I had to work for it.
Being a self-imposed theater critic in the 1980s, I had access to most any big show that hit the Hub. The PR agent happened to be Armenian, so that made it easier. Unlike some of my peers who took the tickets and didn't bother with a review, I always obliged.
If I was given complimentary theater tickets, a story was sure to follow, so the PR people were most cordial whenever a request came along.
In celebrating our 45th wedding anniversary, I opted to surprise my wife with dinner at a choice restaurant and tickets to a Judy Collins concert. As folk singers go, she ranks on top of my list.
The dinner reservations were easy, except we didn't get window seats by the ocean like a friend suggested. But we would be seated with a glimpse of the water. Done!
The concert tickets posed more difficulty. All that remained were individual seats. I had no idea the singer was still this popular. I made some calls looking for loose tickets to no avail. If we wanted to see the concert, we were destined to sit apart — hardly the alternative for an anniversary.
But luck was with us in a bad way. Last minute, we were obligated to attend a wake out of town and didn't arrive to the restaurant until an hour after our assigned time. The seats were taken.
A 45-minute wait ensued before we were finally escorted to our table. Because we had waited so long, the concert crowd adjourned to the hall, leaving us our choice of seating. We got the ocean view after all.
The menus arrived just as nature called and off I rushed to the men's room. On my way out, I met an acquaintance well established in community affairs.
"You going to the Judy Collins concert, too?" the woman asked.
"Bummer," I told her. "Tried getting tickets and they were gone. I wanted them for an anniversary gift."
She called over a manager to see what could be done about getting two seats together, in case someone had canceled.
Moments later, the manager approached our table. "After dinner," he said, "go to the hall and ask for Jim. Tell him Chuck sent you."
Just like that. The fact we were an hour late didn't matter. We missed the opening act and arrived just in time for the main attraction. On came this guy "Chuck" who picked up a couple loose chairs and plopped them in a strategic place up front, careful not to obstruct anyone's view.
Had I not gone to the wake, arrived late, delayed my run to a lavatory and taken a moment to admire the ocean view, I would have missed my contact and the concert as well.
Fate often works in strange ways. On this day, it worked in my favor.
Writer and photographer Tom Vartabedian is retired from The Haverhill Gazette. He contributes this regular column.
