Ticketing the Super Bowl: One Fan's Experience

I'm your ticket into the Super Bowl.  Literally.

To get into the Super Bowl, one must go through the highest of security measures—second in the nation only to the White House. If you pass the pat down, the metal detector, and the wand, you may proceed.

Then you get to me.

If you don’t get through me, you don’t get to be inside the stadium.

If I allow you through—well, have an amazing time, sir, and have fun for me. I’ll be sitting outside here for another couple hours, scanning tickets, checking for counterfeits, having interesting chats with fans, and being highly entertained by the countless array of shenanigans and acts people put on to try to get into the game.

I was hired as a one-day employee of the NFL by S.A.F.E Management—the company that runs the Super Bowls and select football stadiums throughout the country—for Super Bowl XLII in Glendale, Arizona.

I was assigned, with three of my buddies from school, the lowly job of taking tickets. I was on an emotional rollercoaster the whole morning, my highs being thoughts like “Will I work inside the stadium?” or “Will I see any famous sports stars?”

My lows were “crap, my security badge doesn’t let me inside the stadium,” “I’m sure my other friends got cooler jobs than this,” and “I can’t believe I got this close to the Super Bowl, and I can’t go inside at all.”

Don’t worry—that last thought became even more painful later when I was given an extra ticket to inside the stadium. Face value? $700—and that was for the nosebleed section.

We were instructed to tear off the bottom stubs and keep them. This was extremely painful for the majority of fans to watch, most of whom kept their ticket safely strapped around their neck in a plastic pouch, and many of whom grossly overpaid beyond the face value of the ticket.

A man told me that I could take the bottom of his ticket because I was so pretty. Umm, you’ll let me take the bottom of your ticket because if I don’t, I won’t let you into the Super Bowl and you just wasted $1,300.

One fan in the morning even tried to bribe me with a $20 to let him keep the bottom of the ticket. I said no.

My friend, Tracy, told a guy that she needed to take his stub. The guy responded with a chuckle, “I haven’t heard that in a while. But you’re too young for me.” We had a good laugh after that one.

A few minutes later, however, I asked a high school-aged boy to “please pull it out for me” (referring to the ticket, of course). His dad laughed and told me, “You might not want to say that to him—he might really do that.” That certainly brought a blush to my cheeks.

The three levels of tickets were the terrace (or nosebleeds) for $700, the club level, which was the middle section, for $900, or the front and center for a mere $2000. And may I remind you, this was just face value.

The fans were fantastic. I got to meet a lot of great people, even in those short few moments of scanning and tearing off ticket stubs.

There were the Patriot fans, dominating the landscape at security. I’d ask Patriot fans, “Who’s going to win tonight?” with a big smile on my face. Most of them would state their obvious answer.

I’d ask Giants fans the same thing, and get the naturally opposite answer. When fans would ask me who I wanted to win, I’d honestly answer “Niners!” and start laughing.

Then there were fans wearing different team jerseys. I saw a couple Eagles fans, a pair of Packer fans, one guy sporting a 49er Willis jersey (that made my day!), and Vikings gear.

One man, wearing a Dolphins jersey, happened to be getting talked down from a Patriots fan when he was getting his ticket scanned. I interrupted, and patted the fan on the shoulder, and said, “You’re a true fan! The Dolphins will have a better year next year, and they’ll make the Super Bowl! With the Niners!”

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