A Murphy’s Law Concert  

Murphy’s Law is a familiar engineering adage: “Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.”  

But how could that possibly apply to my wife and me going to a free local concert on a Sunday evening? How, indeed?  

It started with an email from my wife, Adele, on Sunday morning, August 30. That evening was the final performance of Sacramento’s Music in the Park series at William Curtis Park, featuring the It’s About Time Band.  

I’ve heard the band several times. They’re polished, professional and, I was going to say, really great—which they are. But the last time we heard them, at an indoor music hall, Adele came away with tinnitus. So I agreed to go this time, but only if we brought hearing protection.  

The concert was scheduled for 6 p.m. We figured we’d need about an hour after dinner to get there, find parking and walk to the park.  

As 5 p.m. approached, I rummaged through the refrigerator and discovered a serious problem: There was nothing for dinner. We had eaten all the leftovers for lunch. At breakfast, we had finished everything except one lonely egg.  

OK. We’d pick something up.  

“How about a veggie burrito?”  

Great. I called Oscar’s to place an order. First, though, let’s make sure they’re open.  

They weren’t. They had closed at 3.  

What about the other Mexican restaurant on Merkley? Closed.  

Nugget?  

With the clock ticking, we headed for Nugget.  

What to get? A made-to-order sandwich we could split seemed like a good idea.  

There was only one person ahead of us in line. Unfortunately, there was also only one person behind the counter. Ten minutes later, the employee appeared to be working on a large order. The clock was ticking louder.  

Forget the sandwich. We checked the pre-made section.  

I found a breakfast burrito. Good ingredients, reasonable price. I bought one for each of us.  

Next challenge: Which line do we use? “Do you want a bag?” Finally, we checked out.  

Let’s go!  

Traffic crossing the Sacramento River on Highway 50 wasn’t bad. We took the first exit and cruised the local streets until 24th Street, turned toward Curtis Park and started looking for a place to park.  

Adele wanted to take the first parking spot we found. It was a couple of blocks from the park.  

Fine.  

We walked the few blocks, only to discover that the streets were nearly empty of cars—with plenty of parking spaces.  

Should we go back and move the car?  

Why bother?  

We finally reached the park. The stage wasn’t far away, and we set up our chairs about 75 feet in front of the band. They were rehearsing, and the amplifiers were blasting.  

Adele said she was fine with her AirPods set to noise cancellation.  

I wasn’t.  

Besides, it was hot—and we were sitting in the sun.  

So we moved behind the band and speakers, under a shady tree. Perfect.  

Well, almost.  

The only couple sitting near us came over to explain that they were having a party for a bunch of seven-year-olds. There would be hot dogs and macaroni and cheese.  

Adele, who is interested in nutrition, learned that the man was into cooking. That led to a discussion—and eventually a lecture—about Yuka, the healthy-food-rating app.  

We decided to stay.  

When the music finally started, however, it wasn’t the nostalgic sound of the It’s About Time Band.  

Instead, a costumed guy jumped around to recorded rap music.  

Not exactly my cup of tea.  

It seemed to last forever, although the clock told us it had lasted only 15 minutes. Finally, a spokesperson came onstage to introduce the program.  

Then, at last, the band appeared.  

That was better.  

By now, Adele had spotted the friend she had planned to meet. Her friend was sitting farther away, in front of the band and conveniently near the portable toilets.  

Adele soon left to join her.  

That left me sitting alone, listening to the music.  

And then the party began.  

The seven-year-olds actually weren’t much of a problem. Their parents were. They stood around talking, making it difficult to hear the band.  

Then another family arrived and spread out a blanket and stroller directly in front of me, blocking my view.  

Enough.  

I picked up our chairs and headed toward the portable toilets, where I had last seen Adele.  

She wasn’t there.  

I tried Find My on my iPhone.  

It didn’t work.  

So I called her.  

It turned out that she had been looking for me while I was looking for her. Naturally, we missed each other.  

Where should we meet?  

At the portable toilets, of course.  

We eventually settled down beside her friend. Unfortunately, conversation was nearly impossible. The music was loud, and both Adele and I were wearing noise-reducing AirPods.  

Finally, we decided we’d had enough. Besides, we still needed to buy groceries before Grocery Outlet closed.  

As we walked out of the park, we could hear a reprise of the costumed guy jumping around to recorded rap music.  

We returned to the car, stopped at Grocery Outlet, bought our groceries and headed home.  

It had been a free concert.  

But perhaps we got exactly what we paid for.  

Murphy was right:  

“Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.”

~ Al Zagofsky