How A Case of FOMO Made Me Go Solo

Disclaimer: I do actually have friends. Really good friends who love live music like I do. And a husband who pretty much goes along with anything. So I had options. But sometimes, I just like to challenge myself to go it alone.

Some people start each year with a travel bucket list. I start mine with a travel bucket list and a live music bucket list. At any given time, you can probably find me on either the Ticketmaster or Southwest app. My personal joy is directly correlated with how many flights I take and concerts I attend. And if I’m using both apps at the same time—buckle up, because it’s going to be a doozy.

By the last week of May, I had kicked off a live music streak that spanned several weeks and a few different states. I’d been keeping my eye on Keith Urban’s show in Cuyahoga Falls, but by that last weekend in June, dare I say it—I was a little tired. When I saw he’d be in Hershey later in the year, I gave myself permission to sit that one out.

As summer shined on, I kept my eye on Ticketmaster. I logged more than a few treadmill miles - my dogs watching me while I was watching Keith Urban performances on YouTube—each one reminding me why I’ve always been a fan. He looks like he’s having so much fun performing. That’s why I wanted to see him in person. I kept checking tickets, almost daily, watching prices and availability.

I’d learned from the George Strait / Chris Stapleton / Parker McCollum show earlier in the summer that last-minute single seats can be the way to go. A few days before that concert, I’d snagged a floor seat about ten rows back for just $77. I went solo inside, but I had friends going that invited me on their bus. So going alone to Keith Urban wasn’t a totally crazy idea to me.

As the Hershey show got closer, I kicked my ticket research into high gear. There were single floor seats just a few rows back. There were pit tickets. I spent countless hours on the treadmill refreshing Ticketmaster - weighed down by 25lb vest and my gift for overthinking. Should I go? Is it weird to drive clear across the state for a concert by myself? I’d already taken time off in August and September for trips with my boys and my high school girlfriends. Did I really want to go that badly… or did I just like the idea of going? Each time I chickened out and let my cart time out, I told myself “If there are still tickets tomorrow, it will be my “sign.”

The concert was on a Thursday. By Tuesday, I had declared, “I’m not going.” I was sure. I had too much going on at work and home, and it just didn’t make sense.

By Wednesday morning, my FOMO had other plans: “Yes you are.”

By Wednesday afternoon, I told my work friends, “I’m not sure. I’ll keep you posted,” as we walked out of the office.

By Wednesday night, I still didn’t know.

Thursday morning: I’m going.
Now the real question—which ticket? Floor seat or pit? I probably let my cart time out ten times. Pit or floor seat. Floor seat or pit. “I’ll think about it while I’m in the shower.” Then: “I’m not going.” Then: “If I get in the pit, I can stand the whole time without worrying about who’s behind me.” Then: “What if there’s a pit stampede?” (There never is, but still.) Owen’s always been with me in the pit. “After I dry my hair, I’m just picking a ticket.” Then: “I should just go to work.”

It was maddening.

Then—I just bought the pit ticket. And you know what? All that indecision and anxiety instantly gave way to total excitement. That’s when I knew I’d made the right decision.

Like the Friends episode where Rachel finds out she’s pregnant. At Monica and Chandler’s wedding, Phoebe and Monica help her take a second test. Phoebe tells her it’s negative, and Rachel’s face falls—she’s sad. Then Phoebe admits she was lying, and Rachel realizes how much she truly wanted that baby. “That’s a risky game,” as Phoebe says.

That was me—my little “risky game.” The second my Ticketmaster confirmation popped up, I knew exactly how much I’d wanted to go all along.

I made it to the Giant Center in Hershey just in time. I chatted with my parking lot neighbors. The pit was still pretty empty, so I was able to get right up near the stage.

Keith Urban is an incredible performer. He connects with the crowd in a way that feels personal and effortless. At one point, he grabbed someone’s phone mid–FaceTime and sang directly into it. He used others to take selfies. He ad-libs, laughs at himself, and absolutely shreds that guitar. He has energy for days and looks like he’s having just as much fun as the audience. It was even better than my FOMO told me it would be.

I didn’t want it to end—and I’ve been talking about it nonstop ever since.

My only regret? That I didn’t go to the Cuyahoga Falls show. Because if I had, I still would’ve gone to the Hershey show. That’s how good it was. I’ve looked at the rest of his tour. There aren’t any shows that I can swing. But you can bet that I am all in on his next tour. And until then, I’ll be glued to YouTube - still weighed down by my vest but definitely not by overthinking and indecision.

Sometimes, the best plans are the ones you almost talk yourself out of. I didn’t just go to a concert — I reminded myself that I can do things alone, for no other reason than I want to.