Panther Rants is The Onion of Pitt Sports. Formerly a serious recruiting blog written by a serious recruiting writer, the site was taken over by mediocre bloggers that provide satire, sarcasm and anything but serious information. Everything on this site is tongue-in-cheek and is not meant for serious consumption.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Some schools just get it

Panther Rants is preparing for it's first-annual roadtrip to Virginia on Sept. 29. We'd invite all 13 of you that read our blog to drop by for a beer, but being that we're all procrastinating morons, we have no idea where we are parking or what time we are arriving (by the way, what time do the lots...ahh, the hell with it). And knowing our crew, we'll only come equipped with four cans of beer and five bags of ice. More on this trip as it develops.

Anyway, yesterday we ordered two tickets for the game from the Virginia website. In all, the process was painless and took about five minutes to complete. but here's where it gets interesting.

Virginia gives customers the option of (a) having the tickets sent (b) picking them up at will call or (c) printing them up online. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Can you imagine what the latter would be like at Pitt?

217-year-old ticket taker, "What the hell is this thing? It looks like you made it on your home computer."

Customer, "well, we did. We printed them up online."

217 y.o.t.t, "You can't do that. get outta here with these."

Customer, "but the website said that we could..."

217 y.o.t.t., "I don't care what the website said. These aren't tickets. Go take it up with guest relations."

After arguing with guestion relations, media relations, human relations, human resources, natural resources and the ACLU, the couple are finally allowed into the stadium and arrive at their section to deal with another fossil: the usher.

371-year-old usher, "What the hell are these?'

Customer, "We printed our tickets online."

371 y.o.u. "You can't do that. I need an actual ticket."

Customer, "But these are actual tickets."

317 y.o.u., "No they aren't. They're things you printed at home."

Customer, "But I.....ahh, fuck it."

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