“Sorry I bitched about the seats,” Marissa said, sipping the foam from her beer. I shook my head. “Totally fine, they were expensive tickets.” “It’s just, I wanted the full experience, you know? Front row, being sung to, eyes locking. The whole rock and roll fantasy.” “Oh, I get it—more than you know.” Again, she raised an eyebrow. “Do you, now? Please elaborate.” I smiled wickedly. I wasn’t embarrassed of my days following this band, so why had I acted like I was? I opened my mouth to share the story, but then the drum solo started winding into a guitar solo, and I turned back towards our seats. It was calling to me, like a siren song. I glanced back at the bouncer who stood guarding the floor area, his nose buried in his phone. This was our one chance. I reached back to grab hold of Marissa’s hand and stepped down towards the stage, one foot in front of the other, fully expecting to be stopped at some point…but nothing. Not when we reached the back of the crowd, not when we approached the velvet rope of the floor seats, and not even when we reached the opening…