Travel Blog

I arrived at Marlins Park early yesterday evening and walked up to the ticket window.

"I'd like the cheapest ticket," I said.

"The cheapest ticket tonight is $22," said the young man behind the window.

"It's usually $15," I said.

"Those tickets are unavailable tonight," the man told me.

I asked him why. He said he didn't know. I told him I was sure that the upper deck in the outfield had not sold out. He insisted that he had not been told anything; all he knew was that the entire section had been blocked for tonight's game.

I took a few seconds and approached the next window. Maybe he's got the $15 tickets, I thought. He didn't.

"This organization does everything in its power to alienate fans," I fumed. I told him I wanted to speak to his manager, and went back to the barrier to wait. He immediately started talking to the third ticket seller, surely a conversation about me which the third ticket seller found very amusing. I went up to his window and asked him if he thought it was funny how the Marlins don't play fair with their fans.

He explained to me that the upper deck was closed to ticket sales tonight because it had been reserved for people in the military. I heard this news with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I was happy to have an explanation (it was the secrecy, the withholding of information that so infuriated me) but I knew now that my battle with the manager would be a lost cause.

The manager, when he arrived, stayed behind the glass. He too told me that the seats I wanted had been blocked for the night. I asked him why. When he failed to give me an explanation I told him I knew the answer, and it had taken me three ticket sellers to learn it. He got belligerent (as I was at this point; actually, probably before) and asked me why I asked if I already knew the answer. I told him I wanted to demonstrate how the organization is not upfront with its fans. 

"We're honoring the military," he said sharply, in a way that clearly suggested that, by being a pest, I was doing the opposite. I bought a $22 ticket.

During the game I checked the upper deck in the outfield periodically. At its most populous, three of the eight sections got close to half full; the other five showed small pockets of people (none of them in uniform) sprinkled around a sea of blue seats. Honoring the military, for the Marlins, means honoring the profit margin. What the organization lacks in transparency it makes up for in hypocrisy.