I Snuck In To See Neil Young's Massey Hall Show

The rain and sleet were coming down awkwardly, as they do in those in-between storms when it's not yet winter but somewhat past fall. I, of course, decided to wear my fall coat that morning, the way someone in winter denial tends to do far too late into the season. After trekking for 20 minutes with a scarf wrapped around my head old-lady style, I met my friend Katie.

This was it, after months of trial and error, blood, sweat and tears, we were down to our final attempt at scoring Neil Young tickets.You have to understand the significance of Young playing Massey Hall in 2007. His last show at the acoustically perfect venue 36 years ago is acknowledged as one of the best sets of his career and (until it was officially released earlier this year) bootleg recordings of it were a staple of every fan's collection.

When Young plays now, it's often at large arenas where acoustics are shit and he appears to be a small dot on stage if you can't afford the best tickets. When it was announced that he was coming to Massey Hall for two nights, I decided that this was one show I absolutely couldn't miss.

I thought I had it in the bag. As a member of the official Neil Young website, I got an early shot at advance tickets online. But my golden ticket was sent into oblivion along with my first chance to jump the line. Friends, however, had opportunities sent to their inbox — only to have the site malfunction so it couldn't process credit cards.

It came down to the fateful morning of the official ticket release. I sat at the computer at the 10 a.m. deadline, clicking incessantly on the Ticketmaster website. The first round came up: obstructed view. With the click of the refresh button, I watched my luck whither.

By 10:07 a.m., both shows had sold out. I didn't believe the rumours that a Thursday show might be released but I searched again at 10:40 a.m. There it was on my computer screen: Third show released at 10:30 a.m. and sold-out. A friend with Massey connections told me he might have something and to sit tight. The weeks went by and it was getting harder to sit fucking tight.

At this point, the $500 tickets on eBay told me I'd have to look for scalpers the night of the show. I stood in the Eaton Centre on Monday night with mascara all over my face, scarf-turned-hat completely drenched, and my attire soaked. Katie arrived and off we went to a bank machine, each emptying our accounts so we could purchase tickets. I was willing to not eat for the next month in order to see this show.

We set out for Massey Hall with rain, wind and frigid temperatures worsening. We had the first of what was to be many conversations with scalpers of only the highest class. We decided to start our offer low, leaving room to work up and reach a middle ground with the ticket hoarders.

When we offered $100, the first scalper laughed, pointed to the Eaton Centre and told us to buy a dress instead. He sent us across the street to another businessman. We ran, dodging puddles and cars, only to reach another comic laughing in our faces. He asked for $700 apiece.

It was 6 p.m. and we were still moving from scalper to scalper to scalper — all of whom were sheltered by oversized golf umbrellas — offering our petty $100 to $200, only to be ridiculed time and again. The ice water filling my boots and scalpers looking for $500 for balcony seats didn't make me feel any better.

We made our way to the box office, thinking there would be a secret block of tickets released. Wrong.

We moved back outside into the sleet storm and continued the hunt. At 8 p.m. I heard the lowest offer of the night: $400 apiece. The scalper smiled and said he sold a pair for $1,400. Capitalism at it's finest. Damn you supply and demand, damn you.

During our sidewalk mission, we dedicated ourselves to befriending two young gents working the Massey door. Our sweet-talking didn't get us past the entrance, but we continued to pursue them in between failed purchasing attempts.

The show had started and most of the scalpers cleared the streets. It was a successful night for the thieves, with some selling tickets for $1,100 each. We spotted an untapped group of scalpers and ran over, wide-eyed and excited. Before we opened our mouths, they asked for $1,000 to $2,000.

We walked back to the theatre and thought our Chrome Dreams had dissolved. Just then, the skies opened up. More rain, but also a ray of heaven. Opening act Pegi Young had ended. People walked in and out of the building to get one last smoke in before Neil.

In the midst of the commotion, Katie and I looked at each other, looked at the door where the sweet young boys stood, and knew what to do. We didn't come to stand in the freezing rain for hours just to turn around.

We walked through the doors and told one nice young man that we went out for a butt and he had seen our tickets beforehand. Once inside, we stood in the foyer of our temple for a moment before booking up the stairs to the balcony. There were a few more dodges and feints, including buying Young T-shirts and rolling papers to make it look like it was our right to be there.

The usher at the balcony doors scanned tickets intently. But as a crowd of angry people got locked out for the opener, "From Hank To Hendrix," he was overruled as we all pushed through the doors, leaving him no chance to scan our non-existent tickets. We ran in, found a platform to stand on in the back, and watched Young on opening night.

It was incredible to not only have had the chance to see Young play at the highly respected venue, but to do so with a nice wad of cash still in my pocket.