I have been to a few concerts in my life, but for some reason something always went wrong. I once stood on a ledge outside the mezzanine section in Madison Square Garden to watch Bob Seger. I hovered there, my right arm locked around the railing, as I listened to the music and tried very hard not to fall to my death into the crowd below.
Looking at the calendar, it's already spring. Yet the calendar is irrelevant here in Chicago, as it offers no help in predicting the arrival of warmer weather. In fact, I acknowledge the arrival of the season the same way every year. Like magic, a day comes when the streets and sidewalks seem to be overflowing with beautiful women wearing shorts, skirts or dresses.