If ever you should feel bored and crave some entertainment, treat yourself and call the ticket hotline of the Wiener Bundestheater (Vienna State Theatres), aka the ticket hotline where they thoroughly test your resilience before deeming you worthy of a ticket. If ever you should feel suicidal, do anything but call the hotline of the Wiener Bundestheater. That might push you over the edge. The other day, a friend of mine called the ticket hotline of the Wiener Bundestheater to get us tickets for the Open Day at the Vienna State Opera but was told that unfortunately, tickets had sold out long ago. Nevertheless, she was encouraged to show up to the Open Day. Maybe there was somebody who did not have time to go and wanted us to have their tickets. Needless to say, that idea struck me as completely bogus because if somebody did not have time to go to the opera, what were the odds that the person would show up and give away his FREE ticket? And then another thought struck me: I NEVER get tickets a long time in advance and last time I went to the State Opera’s Open Day, we got the tickets the same day, so it would be a surprise if they had sold out much quicker this time.
My relationship with the ticket hotline of the Wiener Bundestheater is a long and painful one. Still, there was a mystery here that needed to be solved so I picked up the phone and in an act of bravery called to ask about tickets. Indeed, they were sold out. I enquired if it made any sense for us to just show up without tickets and try our luck. The kindly lady on the other side of the line could not answer that question and therefore put me through to a gentleman who would soon feel so close to me that he would open up about all the verbal abuse he had suffered that day. But let’s not rush the story. As I am always happy to talk to new people I asked the person I was put through to if it made any sense to show up without a ticket. Indeed, it did! But how was I going to get in? He did not know! Would people who left the building have to give up their tickets so that they could be redistributed to people who did not get any in the first place? He found it highly unlikely that the Vienna State Opera would engage in such ‘shady practices’. And because my interlocutor had by then understood that I was not going to hang up unless I had I solution, he gave me a piece of inside info: the first information was not quite correct. There were indeed tickets left and they were being released in a completely unpredictable way. He believed the term for that was ‘marketing’ and he was upset because this had caused him so much trouble that day. Two not at all kindly ladies had screamed at him because there were no tickets left. Little did they know that screaming helped them nothing. Little did he know that I really did not care. Nevertheless, I pretend-empathized for a full two minutes and yes, I found it incredible how some people behaved, and no, they really should not have treated him that way, and no, he really was not unfriendly. Then I posed my question. ‘So, does that mean that if I call again tomorrow and the gods are well disposed towards me, I could get some leftover tickets?’, I said into the phone. ‘Yes, that might be possible!’, my new acquaintance stated.
Promptly, I texted my friend about what had happened and was surprised to hear that my text message had not arrived once, not twice, not thrice, but no fewer than seven times, which in the words for my friend meant that ‘a higher force, fate – das FATUM’ was trying to lure me into the State Opera. What my friend took to be fate was in truth nothing but a bad internet connection and my lack of patience, which caused me to repeatedly hit the ‘Send’ button when my computer did not respond. While my friend still contemplated the role of fate, I was engaged in contemplations of a different kind. Forget Schrödinger’s cat. I had just discovered Schrödinger’s ticket. As long as the box (office) was closed, it was available and unavailable at the same time. We clearly weren’t done here. The next day, my friend showed up at the box office in person, but again, no tickets. A few hours later, I called to inquire about the extra batch of tickets. They had been released the day before and sold out immediately. I asked about my chances of getting in without a ticket. That might be possible. Nobody ever knew exactly how the Vienna State Opera handled these things. I hung up and cried a little. Then, I began to wonder how little the people at the other end of the line were paid and how much stress they were under. If everyone gives out freely about the institution they work for and complains to strangers on the phone about the work conditions, something is rotten in the Wiener Bundestheater. Also, I was beginning to doubt my own sanity. I had repeatedly been told that there were no tickets available but just could not let this go. Was there something wrong with me or was the information I got so very confusing and contradictory? (It was! A website dedicated to operas even felt prompted to put up a notice saying that it was impossible to get any valid info by calling the hotline and advised people to just show up.)
On Sunday, my friend and I showed up at the State Opera 15 minutes before the start of the Open Day only to find ourselves faced with a queue of about 300 opera lovers. It was unclear if all of them had tickets, but I knew that if we stood in that queue there was no way we were going to get in. Therefore, I did something I always do in times of duress: I offered myself a few words of encouragement. ‘There is a way for you into this building,’ I said to myself, ‘you just have to find it!’ I first considered just stealing someone else’s tickets, but it soon came home to me that a hit-and-run approach was not possible in any situation that involved having to stand in a queue. Fortunately, I grew up in a part of the world where queuing is for losers and decided to walk around the building in search of another entrance. Eventually, we found a door that only 20 people hovered around and decided to just stand there and then discussed strategies to get in. My friend told me of an acquaintance who always befriended employees of opera houses so they would get him in for free. Then, she started giving one of the employees of the State Opera flirtatious looks. Meanwhile, an elderly lady decided she wanted to be our friend so she stood really close and then joined in the conversation. I didn’t like her because she had a ticket and did not even pretend to be modest about it. And suddenly, the doors opened and the queue inched forward. It seemed like everyone had tickets. There were only a few people left ahead of us. And then we stood in front of the person who collected the tickets. ‘We don’t have tickets’, I blurted. ‘Here you go’, the ticket collector said and handed us two tickets. A second later we were in. And never have I been so happy to be inside the Vienna State Opera. Never have I been so happy to be inside any building. Phone guy had been right. This was marketing. And it was brilliant.
If ever you should feel bored and crave some entertainment, treat yourself and call the ticket hotline of the Wiener Bundestheater, aka the ticket hotline where they thoroughly test your resilience before deeming your worthy of a ticket. If ever you should feel suicidal, do anything but call the hotline of the Wiener Bundestheater. Just go to the opera, stand in line, make new friends and then step into the building. And then, congratulate yourself and celebrate life in the knowledge that if ‘a higher force, fate – das FATUM’ wants you to go someplace, nothing can stop you.
