Last Wednesday night my brother, Ralph, and I trekked to the Buffalo Chip Campground in Sturgis for the Rob Zombie Concert.
I know what you're thinking: "What, Barry Manilow wasn't in town?" Believe it or not, despite no tattoos, no piercings and short hair, I've been known to rock in my day. And besides, Rob Zombie is only six years younger than me.
And of course, the tickets were free, which doesn't hurt. I scored four tickets (or wristbands) and picked Rob Zombie over Toby Keith, just on a hunch. I admit I haven't listened to a lot of Zombie, but I have listened to a lot of Alice Cooper and the two are friends (or fiends, if you will) and tour together at times. I had a feeling I would enjoy the show.
I was right. It was a great show.
But let's go back to before the base vibration nearly went through my chest. I had four tickets, but as it turned out, only Ralph and I could attend. After picking up our wristbands at the ticket office, I decided to wait in front to give away the other two. No sense of them going to waste. I thought about selling the other two, but only briefly. The two security guys standing there made it an easy decision not to.I could see the headline in the Rapid City Journal: "Journal sportswriter busted for scalping Rob Zombie tickets." Or better yet, "Former Journal sportswriter busted for scalping Rob Zombie tickets."
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Turn out the lights, the party's over
I've been accused of being in the dark many times, probably rightfully so. That was literally the case Thursday night after covering a boys' basketball game between New Underwood and Oelrichs in the New Underwood gymnasium.
After my post game interviews, I asked and received permission to write my story in head coach Stacy Finkbeiner’s classroom (at least I think it was his classroom as that’s where we went for the interview). I needed about a half hour and I told Finkbeiner to make sure no one locks me in.
The half hour came and went and just as I had trouble this fall sending a football story online from New Underwood with the Journal’s I Phone connection, it happened again Thursday night. Another 15 minutes later – which passed our copy deadline – I decided to just book it back to Rapid City.
As I left the classroom, I found the rest of the school about as dark as dark can be. I somehow found my way through the gym and to a door and exited the building, only to be met outside by a gentleman who was very suspicious of why I just left an empty, dark school. I don’t blame him a bit, I would be suspicious too. It took a little convincing and proof by my Journal press pass that I was who I said I was and I was just doing my job.
I hurried my way back to the Journal with my story. I won’t say if I fractured the speed limit on my return, but I won’t say that I didn’t. On second thought, I drove the speed limit at all times.
This was the second time that a school janitorial staff had shut the lights off on me before I could file my story. The first time was in Spearfish last fall for a high school football game at Lyle Hare Stadium. At least I had the moonlight to guide me out of the stadium.
After my post game interviews, I asked and received permission to write my story in head coach Stacy Finkbeiner’s classroom (at least I think it was his classroom as that’s where we went for the interview). I needed about a half hour and I told Finkbeiner to make sure no one locks me in.
The half hour came and went and just as I had trouble this fall sending a football story online from New Underwood with the Journal’s I Phone connection, it happened again Thursday night. Another 15 minutes later – which passed our copy deadline – I decided to just book it back to Rapid City.
As I left the classroom, I found the rest of the school about as dark as dark can be. I somehow found my way through the gym and to a door and exited the building, only to be met outside by a gentleman who was very suspicious of why I just left an empty, dark school. I don’t blame him a bit, I would be suspicious too. It took a little convincing and proof by my Journal press pass that I was who I said I was and I was just doing my job.
I hurried my way back to the Journal with my story. I won’t say if I fractured the speed limit on my return, but I won’t say that I didn’t. On second thought, I drove the speed limit at all times.
This was the second time that a school janitorial staff had shut the lights off on me before I could file my story. The first time was in Spearfish last fall for a high school football game at Lyle Hare Stadium. At least I had the moonlight to guide me out of the stadium.
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