Fredrick isnt much of a Gala person. At times he wishes he was, and at other times he is glad he isn’t. It really depends who he is attending with, who is going to be there to share the social load. He does best as a side kick, awkward and prone to early departures when left on his own. This time he got a ticket because he made a silent auction donation, a day out on cloud nine, where there aint no nine to five, there aint no melancholy, good times rolling in a 57 classic, listening to tunes, serenading passers by, sunk into old squeaking leather seats, with hand stitched headrests, the roof down, and the world the lucky spenders oyster as they speed down route 44 playing Midnight Rambler saluting the descending sun, onwards to pinnacle point to lay out on the hood under the moon, basking in the magnificence of defiance, and freedom, and spending time as a pause, in accordance to the items description, written out in calligraphy, on a fancy card, which Fredrick tried to make as appealing as possible. This Gala is the Gala of the year, everyone will be there, dressed to the nines, polished shoes, cuffed sleeves, summer dresses, elegance, gallantry, decadence, allure, jewels, time pieces, hand bags and heels, vanity and vulnerability, posturing and peacocking, smiling faces and masks hiding day to day realities, the struggle, and the beauty in human stories playing out in full display. This is a fixture event, the ticket to have, the place to be, and all for a good cause, hand in hand, joining together, sharing the load, making a tangible difference, aspiring to dream. And then it occurred to Fredrick that he never actually saw “plus one” on the invite, he had just assumed, and now was left thinking to assume makes an ass of you and me, which in this case was Fredrick, and now they were all sold out, and a waiting list has been made, a line up of sorts, a gathering of uncertains were being arranged in order, as adherence to capacities determined by fire codes, and the unspoken allure of scarcity, value in rarity, that and city regulations. And now the conundrum, does Fredrick ask for an exception, does he raise his hand and request for his guest to be put at the front of the line, pulled into the party inside the velvet covered rope gently holding back the unlucky onlookers. Does he cause a stir, draw attention to himself in spite of the fact that the mistake was his, having assumed, and instead of the organizers focusing on the task at hand, the thousands upon thousands of details being synchronized and sequenced, the i’s that need doting and t’s yet to be crossed that make it all go off with the appearance of effortlessness, that his predicament, his self inflicted wound, needs to be attended to, taken care of, made an exception for, and here is where he does not wish to be found, making a scene, being catered too, splashing about, disrupting the flow, throwing rocks into the river, to clear his own path, others down stream be damned. So Fredrick gave away his ticket, handed it to a friend in need, of another plus one, and headed out on the road, his better half by his side, no need to wait in line, rolling down route 44, in their 57, listening to A side rock and roll cassette tapes - earth, wind and fire.