Don’t stop believing
I had never been to a Big Rock Concert before in my life. Really. Not one. In high school I saw George Strait at the San Angelo Rodeo Hall, or rather I had been to dance with cute cowboys at George Strait concerts, but we didn’t really “see” George Strait so much as appreciate him while two-stepping. I don’t even like Journey or Foreigner, but when a friend offered me a “VIP” ticket to the concert in Raleigh and a pass for the “Meet and Greet” event beforehand, I jumped at the chance. And, dear people, it was loud. Transcendently loud. I stood in the fourth-row seating with my mouth wide open, not even daring to dance for a long while. I stood for at least fifteen minutes with my hand holding onto my sternum, feeling how my chest had music going through it, and down to my fingers and toes. (Yes, people looked at me then like I was weird.)
