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Want good tickets or to meet your favorite artist? Bribe someone!
A week later Lil' Kim was scheduled to play the B. B. King Blues Club. All shifty glances and thick Slavic accents, the staff could have been extras in a movie about cold war black marketeers. No need for disguised motives here: I placed a 50 clean in the palm of my hand and pressed it into the flesh of the ticket taker.
"I really want to see Lil' Kim."
His eyes grew large, and he shot a frantic glance at the manager, a large man with a black suit. "I help you?" he asked. I delivered the 50 straight into the fat palm of his big bear hand. "I really want to see Lil' Kim."
He cleared a path and ushered me to the head of the line like a Gazprom executive to a waiting Gulfstream. "You let me know you want come back," he said, handing me his card.
It didn't always work out for the writer of the article, though. I think he went about one for ten.
Posted by Casper at September 5, 2004 12:32 AM