In case you’re living under a rock/in a coma/a hater of music and all things good/Liberal, this year sees the 20th anniversary of the supremely kick-arse Meredith Music Festival. It’s going to be epic. The line-up looks crackingly eclectic (Reverend Horton Heat, anyone?) and its December date goes some way towards ensuring a good-weather vibe: cold beer, long nights and less clothes.
But, at tickets going for a whopping $300 a pop, the sad truth is, ya gotta be rich to go. Joe-or-Joan-Average-Student (or low-level employee, or any Gen-Y that didn’t ‘get into finance’, whatever that means) has to hock the family silver to get their great-unwashed mitts on a golden ticket. And I don’t know about you, but my family silver is only plate.
And even if you have a spare three C-notes just lying round (nice one, Branson), you still need to win the ticket ballot to even be eligible to get the tickets. So if you missed the ballot (likely), crashed your laptop trying to crack online sales (again, likely – they sold out in 15 minutes), and don’t want to risk the old getting-smuggled-in (risky – unless you do what my friend did and build a fake bottom in his van! Genius. The best part was, his other friend did the same and they convoyed through with two stowaways. This was the old days though, when whenever someone crashed a festival an angel got its wings), then what can you do? Well, the short answer is, not much. And the long answer? Shucks, I’m glad you asked.
Register your interest.
I know it’s shit, but hop on Gumtree and place one of those lamecore ‘tickets wanted’ ads. Sure, you’ll be jostling for a place with the other four million ads on there also ‘wanting tickets’, but you could sweeten your deal with bribes of beer. Always beer.
Hit up anyone. Anyone, goddammit!
After you’ve done wringing out your friends and your friends of friends for a spare ticket, it’s time to hit up that weird dude who’s ‘in the scene’ that you’ve somehow remained friends with on Facebook. You know the one, his profile picture is of him holding a cat and his status updates always brag about how he got ‘really wasted last Friday’. Yep. Him. ‘Cause he just might know someone who can get your arse into that magical amphitheatre.
The shittest option, and by far the most successful. The week before the festival those hipsters will start unloading those tickets like God started unloading a spot o’ rain on Noah. Work commitments. Illness. ‘Unforeseen circumstances’. Just make sure you’re around to start pickin’ up the pieces of their shattered, shattered dreams. You’ll get them for cost price OR EVEN LOWER. The downside to this option is the uncertainty of the weeks leading up to it, the weeks when all your friends (who all possess tickets, of course) say to you smugly, ‘Oh don’t worry, you’re sure to get one. There’s always loads.’
This third option always works. It has to work. After years of being one of the smug ones, this year I am sans ticket. It’ll be fine, though. Ace, in fact. You don’t know anyone who has one, do you?