Opinion: If You Got Olivia Rodrigo Tickets, Shut Up Shut Up Shut Up

Before I go off, I’d like to present you with my 2021 Spotify Wrapped, which I am simultaneously very proud of and humiliated by.

Am I the biggest Olivia Rodrigo fan out here? No, definitely not. Did I dress up as her for Halloween this year? Yes. I clipped in 16 hair extensions and went to dollar stores in all corners of the city to find stickers that perfectly mimicked the ones on her Sour album cover (pictured above, five times). And when I wasn’t able to find a fuzzy tanktop in Olivia’s perfect soft pink, I bought a sweater, cut it up and hot glued it back together to complete the look.

In deep deep COVID, when restaurants and the like were closed, I proactively begged my friends not to let me sing “good 4 u” at karaoke, ever. I knew I would want to. I knew I would regret it. Last week, I did karaoke. I sang “good 4 u.” I do not regret it.

That was some background for you. Here’s my sad, sad story:

Olivia Rodrigo tickets for the Vancouver stop of her Sour tour (April 7, 2022) officially went on sale at 10:00am today. But not for just anyone—only “verified fans” had the opportunity to get in the queue. I would complain about that if my sister hadn’t got the news that she was verified yesterday. Her Spotify Wrapped may have Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers up there with Olivia, but the good folks (I use that term loosely) at Ticketmaster still deemed her a hardcore fan.

This morning, we sat together on Facetime as she clicked to enter the queue at 10:00 sharp.

At 10:01, the page finally loaded—and there were 2,000 people in front of us. It didn’t look promising, but I had hope. What followed were 38 minutes of gruelling waiting, as she jumped to number 1609, 1427, 1311, 957, 492… and at 10:39, when she finally got in, the tickets were sold out.

A quick Twitter refresh made three things clear. One, it seems like NO ONE got tickets. Two, fans (also known as Livies) are extremely disappointed. And three, said Livies do not mess around.

I realize that it’s impossible that nobody got tickets. There are thousands of lucky little sneaks out there who have seats. They walk among us. Some of them even have the audacity to brag about it.

And if you’re one of these people, I don’t want to know. Do not tell me about how exciting it was to jump higher and higher in the cue, or the exhilaration of typing in your credit card number. I don’t want to hear it. I do not hope you’re happy. Respectfully, I hate you. You are nothing to me.

If you happen to be selling those tickets, though, please do hit me up.