Do you ever have those moments of worry right before a concert, that somehow you’ve come on the wrong day, or it was an afternoon performance and you thought it was an evening concert, or they’ll scan your ticket and the reader will reject it, or the line for the women’s bathroom will turn into a sort of time vortex that will cause you to miss the first act, or the performance was actually scheduled in such and such theater’s auxiliary performance space across town and you’ll never make it?

This has only ever happened to me once, in Russia, and that was when a friend and I had tickets for a thing at the Bolshoi and we didn’t realize that there were two theaters there and we got in the wrong line, and since neither of us speaks Russian it was hard to ask questions, but at the last minute we realized the mistake, bolted in the right direction, and made it. This, though – despite the adrenaline rush – is not the kind of experience that I would care to repeat very often.

And it has not happened today. I am past the ticket barrier, and unless something truly extraordinary occurs, I will see the opera.

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