The account of the Rouse reminds me of the time many years ago when I had ingested certain fungi and also knew I had to make it to a performance of the Verdi Requiem at Cal State Northridge.

In no condition to drive and barely able to take a shower and get dressed appropriately, a friend unexpectedly dropped in and, in addition to fetching some much-needed beer to moderate things, drove me to the concert (bless you Michael Davison!). I got out of the car with a bottle of Beck’s in my hand, which I carefully set down on the curb as a car with an elderly couple inside stopped to ask me directions (hah!).

I made my way to the Student Union Quad which was totally mobbed—a huge sea of people, including the chorus and orchestra. I had to locate my friend and chorus member who had my ticket, and I had no idea where he might be. However, I made a perfect straight-line path across the quad and didn’t recognize him until I was within about 10 feet. He seemed to think this accomplishment was quite ordinary, not realizing how nearsighted I was under the best of conditions.

In any event, the performance was really top-notch, with excellent guest soloists who were moreover quite close to where I sat, and with whom I felt a wonderful connection. One notable event during the performance was when the enthusiastic percussionist struck the bass drum in the Dies Irae so hard that he broke it. Fortunately it was the last blow before a short intermission, and there was time to dash across campus to get another.