I don’t know how it happened, I’m still in some euphoric haze over it all, but unless I’m dreaming, I think just bought 3 box-level seats to the Detroit Opera House’s final performance of Beethoven’s Fidelio for 17 bucks.
So come this Sunday, I’ll be donning my top-hat, banding with the most suave of all the college friends I have—a rag-tag gang looking straight out of La Boheme—, dressing as petit-bourgeois as humanly possible, and storming the D like its the Tullieries on a Parisian revolt. And spending the afternoon with the Romantic of all Romantics, Beethoven.







