"Wait … why does that say 2025?”
My heart dropped. Sarah Frosch, my friend and digital media editor for The Miami Student (TMS), was looking at our tickets for a Halloween midnight screening of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” Sarah, Stella Powers, Cora Dunn and I were sitting in a parking lot next to The Carnegie in Covington, Kentucky.
The showing was for next year.
I didn’t process it at first, but then the realization hit me hard: We had driven an hour for nothing. Now we were in an unfamiliar area with no clue what to do next.
I was frozen in the passenger seat. I could only stare at the purchase confirmation email, wishing the year would change.
A million thoughts raced through my mind. What now? Are we keeping the tickets? What do I tell my friends and parents? But just as I felt the panic stirring, a laugh bubbled up in my chest and involuntarily escaped.
I laughed. I laughed hard.
I laughed till I couldn’t breathe, a mix of wheezes and belly laughs contributing to the noise. Tears welled up in my eyes as I gripped my aching stomach. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
Normally when plans go south, I get serious and cold. I find the quickest solution, trying to keep calm with a tight smile on my face. I’ve never had tears in my eyes as I laughed at plans going off track.
That’s because it never happens to me.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the planner. I force others to commit; I will send 10 back-to-back messages if it gets me snack suggestions. My house is the “hangout house,” and my basement has brought together all my friends. I consider every detail and what could possibly go wrong. I sound a bit egotistical, but when it comes to planning, I think highly of my skills.
But for this, I hadn’t planned a single part. I confirmed my interest, Venmoed my payment, carefully crafted my outfit and waited to be picked up. I didn’t double-check the dates when the purchase confirmation was sent in our group chat. I didn’t even check when I searched for the venue to check the bag policies.
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On our drive, we listened to the movie soundtrack while Sarah prepared us for the audience participation at the showing. Stella spent a huge chunk of time talking about “Agatha All Along,” and her obsession with Kathryn Hahn. I’m certain I know everything about Hahn now. Thank you, Stella.
When we arrived, everything immediately felt off. The parking lot was completely empty, and the lights were off inside. There wasn’t a line of attendees out the door, despite it being 20 minutes before show time.
We were shocked no one else was here early. We were definitely early; a year, to be exact.
In the midst of our laughing fit, we questioned what to do. Sarah immediately decided to call friend and former TMS opinion editor Devin Ankeney. I can’t tell you why we decided that was the best idea, I’m pretty sure I knew what her opinion of all this would be.
We spent the next seven minutes incoherently explaining our situation to Devin in between laughs and tears, and Cora occasionally yelling “Devin!” from the back seat. Sarah later recorded a short, atrociously glitchy audio message of Cora repeating the name with various voice inflections.
I think Ankeney left that call extremely disappointed in us.
We eventually decided to stop at Waffle House. However, the one we chose had already closed inside dining for the night and was only serving through its sliding window. We stood in the bitter, windy cold for what felt like two hours, but was really only 15 minutes.
I’m sure we looked silly; a corpse bride, Agatha Harkness, Magenta and someone dressed in all black, standing outside a Waffle House at 1 a.m. Sounds like a familiar joke opening…
We ate in the car and drove home. We considered going to Sarah’s apartment and watching the movie, but by the time we returned, we were too exhausted from the disappointment and the late hour.
We all went our separate ways. When I walked into my dorm room, I immediately broke into another laughing fit as I saw my roommate’s concerned expression. I tried explaining everything over the phone to her earlier on our way home, but I was too hysterical to form anything sensical. I changed into pajamas and promptly went to bed.
Since then, I’ve reflected on what happened, more specifically my reaction. I could have freaked out and stayed silent the rest of the night. But instead, I embraced the humor, the foolishness of it all. I just couldn’t find a reason to be upset.
It was entirely our fault and a waste of gas, but that night will be one of the most memorable of my college experience. I’m now better at recognizing when it's appropriate to freak out, and when I should laugh at myself.
But seriously … who releases tickets for a show a year in advance without putting the year in massive, bold font?
Taylor Powers is a sophomore double majoring in journalism and media and communication. She is the assistant opinion editor for The Student and edits for The Miami Student Magazine. She’s also a PR chair for Miami Dance Corps.
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