For Sale: Concert Ticket, Never Used

Once upon a time on January 30th 2018, I was bored. Probably because my phone broke in December.

Fortunately, my sister gave me an Incubus concert ticket she found in the gutter—good for their February 2nd 2018 show in Vegas.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t thought about that particular band since I sang “Drive” on Karaoke Revolution when I was a kid, and to go to their concert would feel to me like spending the day with an older distant relative I’d met only once in my life.

Fortunately, the day before the concert I listened to their entire discography on Spotify and started laughing picturing drunk fans wearing puka shell necklaces and Nickelback t-shirts so I low-key told myself “whatever tomorrow brings, I’ll be there”.

Unfortunately, the day of the concert I realized I was too anxious to “Drive” myself to a rock & roll show in downtown Vegas at 9pm with no navigation through dark city streets (because my phone broke in December).

Fortunately, my dad suggested I earn a few bucks selling the ticket instead and the thought of adding a nice round, say, fifty dollars to my name inspired renewed confidence to drive out to Las Vegas in the approaching dusk.

Unfortunately, right around the time I should have left, my mom forced me to go out to dinner with everyone, citing something along the lines of “valuable and fleeting family time”.

Fortunately, the burger place they voted on catered to my vegetarian needs with soy meat patties.

Unfortunately, the wait for our food was hefty and it gave me ample time to sit and think about my recent failures in life, which may or may not be limited to: losing my job, getting dumped, and breaking my phone in December.

Fortunately, a more productive thought popped into my head during this time, which may or may or may not be limited to: discovering the missing piece to my Great American Novel.

Unfortunately, my phone broke in December so I had no “Notes” app to capture my Great American Idea.

Fortunately, there was a napkin dispenser on the table so I grabbed a napkin and hollered for a pen and began to scribble my thoughts, which high-key made my life feel indie romantic and wouldn’t have happened had my phone not broken in December.

Unfortunately, the missing piece to my novel was the missing love interest, which was a fortunate discovery, but wouldn’t have come to me had I not been going through heartbreak, which is an unfortunate thing for anyone to have to experience, no matter what fortunate things come of it.

It unfortunately seems as though there are “unfortunately’s” for every “fortunately” but fortunately I’ve come to find there are also “fortunately’s” for every “unfortunately”. The “fortunately” that accompanies the unfortunate existence of this blog post is the good fortunate that this unfortunate piece of work has come to a close.

P.S. I have a vintage Incubus concert ticket for sale. $50 or best offer. DM if interested. My phone broke in December so I may or may not be able to get back to you.

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