These girls are in haste!

Royal Albert Hall. Between the early evening and late night Prom two friends sit in bar giggling over sandwiches and orange juice.

'What's the time?'
One checks phone. Replies.
'Oh. Oh dear. The Prom starts in six minutes. And we need to pick up the tickets.'
Action. Both get up, scoop up bags. Start to run. Through bar, up stairs. Up more stairs again. Which way is best? They're at door 6, the tickets are at door 12. Through door into inner corridor. Keep running. Halfway round the Royal Albert Hall. Arrive at door 12. Pull door handle. It's locked. Gesticulate frantically at steward in oh-so-smart red coat. Unlocked. 'Where are you going?' 'Tickets!' 'Well, go go.' Run to box office desk. The foyer is deserted. Hurry out name. Tickets. Two programmes. Check. 'It's door 3'. 'Door 3, where is door 3?' 'That way.' Run back to first steward. Hand over tickets. Other door... he points. Then runs with them to next steward, who has to scan the barcodes on the tickets, a la Sainsbury's. 'Hurry up, these girls are in haste!' Said girls crack up laughing. 'Don't laugh, the worst is to come!' Oh no? Where are our seats? The other side? He's just kidding. Unable to speak for laughter – 'these girls are in haste' – they arrive at the door which isn't so far away after all and are let through the red velvet curtain into the inner sanctum, ready for the concert.