Missing Out

What's the point of doing something "fun" if you won't even enjoy it?

Last Tuesday was supposed to be an exciting day. Ryan and I planned to visit Milwaukee together for the first time in over a year.

For weeks, we had talked about the old haunts we wanted to visit when we got to the city. I, as usual, was looking forward to where we’d eat (Thainamite, On the Bus, and Discourse Coffee were at the top of my list). And of course we were looking forward to the main event: seeing Herbie Hancock perform at the Pabst Theater.

It was Ryan’s idea to go to the show, since he’s been making his way through Hancock’s discography lately. Besides, who wouldn’t want to see a jazz legend tear it up on the keyboard?

I was also looking forward to the concert for my own personal reasons. About a decade ago, I saw Herbie Hancock perform in Ann Arbor, so seeing him again would feel like some kind of full-circle moment. At the time, I didn’t know Herbie Hancock was a Big Deal since I was only in high school and tagged along with my mom to sit in the nosebleed seats — but I was blown away by his performance.

When Tuesday morning rolled around, Ryan and I woke up to rain for the second or third day in a row. No big deal, we thought. A little rain wouldn’t put a damper on our plans (we’re Midwesterners; bad weather is rarely a reason to cancel).

But as the day went on, the wind started to pick up. Then the rain fell in buckets and showed no sign of stopping. We started to realize that our hour-long drive to the city would probably be a headache, and I could feel myself becoming less and less enthused about the trip as the day went on.

The drive to Milwaukee is all highway from where we live: 70 miles per hour, then 55 once you get within city limits. Keeping up with the speed of traffic is no problem when the skies are clear and there’s no rain, snow, or high winds. But on days when there’s inclement weather, I’d rather be anywhere than in my car, struggling to keep up with speeding trucks, semis, and oversized SUVs.

Once we merged onto the interstate that day, I realized that traveling was probably a bad idea. Every time a vehicle passed us, so much water splashed into the air that I couldn’t see anything in front of me. And we could feel the high winds tossing my top-heavy car around whenever a big gust came by.

We got about twenty minutes from home, me gripping the wheel intensely and Ryan sitting silently in the passenger seat. An upbeat Patrice Rushen album played from the car stereo but was muffled by the sound of rain berating the windshield.

Then, Ryan piped up.

“So, what’s the maximum amount you’d pay for a concert ticket and not go?”

I though about it for a second. “Hmm. $50?” I could deal with losing $50. It would suck, but it wouldn’t destroy me.

Ryan scrolled on his phone for a second, then replied: “Well, I looked it up and our Herbie Hancock tickets cost $50 before taxes and fees.”

We sat in silence for a second. I didn’t want to be the one to call off our fun day in the city. But I was honestly feeling more and more nervous about the weather as the drive went on.

I knew that the wet roads were due to freeze that night, and there was snow on the way — which we couldn’t avoid since the concert would probably end around 9:30 or 10:00 PM. Still, the thought of canceling plans felt weak. Were we really such soft suburbanites that we couldn’t handle a little bad weather and walking around in the rain for a few hours?

Part of me felt like I’d disappoint Ryan by canceling, too. “I just really don’t want you to miss out on this,” I said. “And I thought you’d be really bummed if we couldn’t go, so I didn’t even bring it up.”

But at that point, Ryan had started to change his mind about going to Milwaukee. “It just doesn’t seem safe,” he said. Ultimately, I let him decide that we were gonna turn the car around and go home, since I felt bad being the one to make that final call.

For a few moments, I felt guilty and upset that we weren’t going to keep on with the day trip we’d been looking forward to for weeks. But then I was relieved that both of us thought it best to cancel. Ryan and I agreed that we’d probably end up worrying our way through the Herbie Hancock show because the roads were supposed to be terrible afterward.

Also, who wants to walk around a city in the pouring rain? I can take a drizzle, but I really was not looking forward to wandering around Milwaukee’s Third Ward for a few hours while getting soaked. (Most of the time it’s too windy there to even use an umbrella.)

Honestly, the older I get, the more I realize that it isn’t worth it to force something to happen just because you planned for it. It doesn’t matter how cool that thing is or how long you’ve been waiting to do it. What’s the point of making yourself participate in something “fun” if you won’t even enjoy it?

Sure, it would have been awesome to eat at our favorite Milwaukee spots and see Herbie Hancock play live. The crappy weather would have caused a whole lot of anxiety and frustration, though — and possibly an accident. I’m not even sure if the good parts of our trip would outweigh the bad ones.

So, we headed home, feeling a little defeated but glad to be safe. “I’d rather be bored at home than lying in a ditch off the highway tonight,” Ryan said.

One compromise we did make: Going out to dinner in town. Driving on local roads in the rain wasn’t nearly as bad as on the highway.

Waiting for our food!!

We visited our neighborhood Mexican restaurant and shared a giant horchata, tacos, and a fat chimichanga. Ryan and I left feeling full and satisfied. On any given day, going out to eat at one of our favorite spots in town suffices for a perfect outing.

But on Tuesday, that trip felt extra special. We made a big decision that helped keep us safe, even if it meant losing some money and an opportunity. It felt disappointing at first, but what did we really miss out on? Nothing, if you consider that Ryan and I can always find a way to have a good time.

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I have some bad news and good news for you all. First, the bad: I never found my beloved noise-canceling headphones that I lost back in February.

Remember that essay? I was hoping St. Anthony would come thru and help me find them, but it appears my headphones have vanished into the ether. I’ve cleaned my apartment multiple times and even asked around at the local businesses I frequent to see if they’d turned up. Almost two months later, I’ve had no luck finding them, so I’ve abandoned the search.

But here’s the good news: I bought a new (and better) pair of headphones! And I have to thank my supporters, since your donations helped me buy a top-notch pair of Sonys that I probably wouldn’t have purchased otherwise.

Your donations to this newsletter give me the confidence to keep writing essays AND help me with practical expenses, like when my equipment goes missing. I’m sure I’ll have these headphones for years to come (given I don’t lose them, too).

As a reminder, this newsletter will always be free to read and share, but I rely on the generous donations of readers to build financial security and keep this project going long-term.

Any amount helps get me closer to my Spring goal of $800 ❤️ (Current progress: $364/$800)

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Huge shoutout to my 2024 supporters:

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