So I'm at a Laker game with my dad and I'm waiting in the Will Call line to pick up our tickets. The guy in front of me is wearing the kind of green sweater than only people who own tasseled loafers wear. It's probably not only worth more than everything I'm wearing, but everything I own. He strikes up a conversation.

We chat briefly about how quickly the line is moving, despite the fact that it's long and how it should be a good game.

Arriving at the window, he slides his driver's license through the window, leans over and says, "I've got player tickets. Nick Van Exel left them for me."

"Who?" the woman behind the glass says.

"Nick Van Exel. I represent him."

"Who?"

"He plays on the team."

"Oh." She disappears.

The guy working the other window motions me over and I give him my license. I turn back to Van Exel's agent and say, "So. Why'd he shave his head?"

"What?" he says.

"Why'd Nick shave his head?"

He laughs a little. "He wanted to be more like Barkley."

"Euugh. Nobody should want to be more like Barkley."

The woman reappears behind the window and says, "Are you sure he left them for you?"

"Yes. I'm his agent."

"Who was it again?"

By now, the guy at my window is back with a pair of tickets and he hands them to me with my license. I thank him and start to walk back to where my dad's waiting.

As I pass him, I say to the agent, "That's how you get service around here."

Or at least I wish I had, dammit.