We Emerge Victorious From The Virtual Waiting Room
I don’t have much of a mind for organization. My desk is strewn with papers and empty soda cans and I never balance my checkbook. But when it came to preparing for my first experience in the virtual waiting room, I had a strategy. Lucky for me, the planning paid off.
At 11:45, I used the bathroom and filled my 2004 Commemorative World Series Dunkin’ Donuts cup with water to prepare for the long wait. I took the advice of the seasoned Virtual Waiting Room users in my life and logged into the site just before noon. I hoped that many users wouldn’t try until the appointed hour and that my wait would be a short one.
For about five minutes, I was content to open as many Waiting Room windows as possible. At one point, my computer struggled to refresh 20 windows every 30 seconds. Still, I got nowhere. That’s when the rage set in.
“NOTHING IS WORKING,” I emailed a Waiting Room Veteran. After she made sure I was in the right place, she tried to log in on her computer.
“I’ve opened a bunch of window up but this is brutal. Usually with the lotteries, provided you’ve opened a bunch of windows, you can get right through. I think it usually takes me 5 to 10 minutes to get through the virtual waiting room. But you’re going on 20 minutes now, with nothing.”
That didn’t make me feel good. But shortly after that email, she got through. After exchanging personal financial information through an unsecure site to my friend—I hope you appreciate this, Virtual Waiting Room—we got our hands on four Upper Bleacher seats for Opening Day. The tickets aren’t next to each other, but at least we’ll be inside Fenway for the ring ceremony.
And no, you can’t have one. They’re already spoken for.