"Fuck the Bowery Ballroom." That's the only thought that went through my head as a one hour wait quickly became a grueling, nearly four hour wait on Delancey Street, before last night's Kanye West show, which I managed to score a ticket to. And this morning, after barely making it in for the beginning of West's set, my sentiment stands. Fuck the Bowery Ballroom. I don't know how the organizers of the event expected things to unfold, but they certainly didn't anticipate the debacle that was trying to get into the Bowery Ballroom. And that was the problem.

I arrived at the Bowery Ballroom before most people. When I got there around 8, there were maybe twenty people in line. Physical tickets for the event were non-existent, so you had to wait until will call opened to confirm your spot. Some lady at the door told me will call would open around 9 or 9:30. I came back at 9, the line had grown a little, and I began my wait. By 10, the line had turned the corner onto Bowery, and I fully expected it to start moving at any second, giving me a good two hours to get settled inside and have some drinks before Kanye's scheduled midnight performance. That didn't happen. The line was gridlocked until well after 11, and as a parade of model types and dudes in suits walked past us and began crowding the door, that's when people started to realize something was wrong.

Eventually, the line started to move in short bursts, but they were rare, and separated by what became excruciating, seemingly endless waits. A crush of people who either didn't have tickets or felt lines were beneath them made it seemingly impossible for those of us with tickets to get in. The bouncers and door people seemed clueless and indifferent. Suddenly, your $100 ticket seemed worthless, and as the clock rounded midnight, a feeling of dread clouded over the line. People started seriously considering the prospect that they might actually miss this show.

I got in shortly after midnight, and it felt like getting released from jail. Shortly after, close to 1, West finally took the stage, and I realized there was absolutely no way all those ticket holders made it in. The whole thing was the poster child for New York nightlife cliches. But Spike Lee and Diddy made it in, so who really cares? Again, Bowery Ballroom, fuck you.