tickets

My aunt and I saw Brokeback Mountain at the Harvard Exit last week. I gave the man in the booth a twenty and in return received two cash register receipts. Where were the tickets? I slowly realized that the receipts were the tickets. No little cardboard scraps, no stubs...just receipts. The Harvard Exit is no modern fancy shmancy theatre. It is an old fashioned theatre, complete with its own ghost (so go the stories). This was not the place for a receipt in place of a ticket stub.

I have been saving tickets from movies, plays, sporting events, operas, concerts, fancy elevator rides – most tickets I receive – most of my adult life. I have a box in which I place these tickets and enjoy sifting through them, playing remember when. I hope it's not a trend.