After three months of intense longing the night of the Tori Amos concert arrived. The night intended to be the highlight of my life quickly turned to disaster. Sometimes a little chaos is all that one needs to set his priorities back on track.

Chad and I piled into the blue 1983 Nissan Pulsar that would be the magic carpet for the evening. The destination of the pilgrimage was the Cullen Auditorium, where the majestic Tori Amos would take control of the stage and lives of everyone in the room. Visions of her crimson red hair and angelic voice filled my head. They interrupted the daydream as the accelerating car entered the freeway. Its baby blue frame began to shake violently. The steering wheel joined the erratic dance of the frame causing my hands to ache. In a futile attempt to cease the vibrations I tried to grip the wheel harder, but instead of halting, the shaking became worse. Chad's eyebrows raised as he glanced over anxiously. Slowly taking some pressure off the gas pedal soothed the shaking beast. Finally the car was running smoothly as I took my place in the left lane. A split second after passing the Hardy Toll Road exit a large blue object obstructed my view of the road. The hood of the car had shaken free from the latch that held it safely in place. The impact of the hood connecting with the roof of the car resulted in a thunderous crash. Following the crash, the sound of shattering glass erupted causing a shower of tiny sharp fragments. The sunroof now lay scattered in our laps and the floor of the car.

Using the space left under the hood I brought the car to a stop a few feet before the shoulder ended and the cement wall started. In shock, I did not realize the piece of glass embedded in the bridge of my nose causing it to bleed profusely. I dashed to the trunk to find something to tie the hood back in place so we could continue our journey. The passenger door creaked open and Chad cautiously stepped away from the vehicle.

Staring intently at his arm he shouted, "I'm bleeding!" Blood gushed out of his forearm staining his clothing.

"You'll be fine," I shrieked running past him. His blood did not clot, if anything the flow quickened. He begged me to take him the hospital as I diligently worked to secure the hood with the old piece of rope I discovered in the trunk. While wrapping the rope around the hook on the hood and the bumper of the car, I explained that nothing would keep me from going to the concert. I had convinced myself that his wounds were not serious until he leaned down to show me the grimace of pain on his face.

Seeing his face twisted in anguish, I snapped out of my obsession. The concert had taken priority over a friend's safety. In my mind I had committed the ultimate evil, and with the hood firmly fastened I turned around and heading back to the emergency room in Conroe.