The Ditziest Day Of My Life, Bar None!

I mean, I went to Harvard...all right, Columbia.

But when trying to buy advance tickets to The Master the other day--because I'd missed the premiere due to Fashion Week--I came off like a '70s sitcom character on unspeakable amounts of crack.

At the theater's ticket machine, I studiously checked out the available times for the next night.

I contacted a few friends about the possibility of going, realized I needed two tickets, and checked the machine again.

But the 7:30 PM showing was suddenly gone, obviously sold out!

So I got two tickets for the 9:05 and rode uptown.

All's well, right? Nope. I later realized I had only taken one ticket and the receipt!

I went way back down to the theater, where they couldn't find the other ticket, but nicely issued me another one on trust.

Later, uptown, I realized they'd issued it for the wrong night!

I dragged my ass way back down there again and got a corrected ticket.

At this point, I was on the verge of complete emotional collapse, but felt I'd finally gotten it together.

That is, until I looked at the cashier's sign that said "35 millimeter version shows at 9:05"!

That's what I'd gotten the tix for!

The 7:30 hadn't been sold out at all--it's just that that was one of the 70 millimeter showings, whereas the second time I'd clicked on the movie, I hit "The Master, 35 mm" without realizing it.

Paul Thomas Anderson would kill me if he found out!

Still, I couldn't possibly ask for yet another transaction--this was getting humiliating--so I decided to stick with the 9:05 and just deal with it.

The next day, I prepared to go, worn out but optimistic.

Looking through my bag for the tickets, I saw not only the original one and the replacement one, but the one I'd lost!

It was in there the whole time!!!

I ripped up the extra one (scalping it didn't seem like the right thing to do--besides, it would lead to overcrowding) and went to the movies with my friend, blaming the whole mess on the horrors of Scientology.