I bought two tickets to the Todd Rundgren concert, but as the day grew near no one was willing to go with me – my friends had evaporated. I imagined driving at top speed out of town toward the arena, but never arriving. Somewhere along the interstate, I smashed the car into a wall, and in a twist of steel and concrete the story ended. But I wasn’t brave enough to endure that split second of terror and pain, and have come to realize I traded it for another that is still unfolding. The unused ticket has been at ease in its envelope all this time, and if I had never arrived at the concert so would I. I never would have gone through what I’m writing about today.
David Holzel writes from Maryland. He's available for concert reviews. Some of his writing is at home at The Jewish Angle.