An apprehensive yet enthusiastic chatter fills the air. Men are dressed to perfection, their three piece suits both stately and crisp. Women are draped ever so elegantly in magnificent ball gowns, and many are adorned with the finest of jewelry. In an instant, one is transformed from the common buzz of the nighttime scene to the grandeur and charm of Symphony Hall. People roam tenuously as they await the beginning of the performance. A few settle into their seats while others choose to order a cocktail from the bar, chatting with excitement. The endless ceiling is scattered with dozens of delicate lights that seem to float above you like stars in the night sky. The entrance hall is wide and roomy, its walls curving this way and that like those of a gentle river. The floor is covered in thick velvet carpet, red as the rising sun. Golden accents subtly adorn everything from the ornate chandeliers to the eternal staircases.

The energetic crowd is soon joined by the discord of a single violinist. And then another. And another. And another, until the enormous hall is filled with the wondrous cacophony of an entire symphony warming up their instruments. The brilliantly gleaming lights slowly dim and the people become nothing but an air of excited murmurs. Suddenly, the crowd and the orchestra go silent; out of the corner of my eye I notice a man in a fine black suit confidently striding from left stage. He is young, far younger than I imagined, and yet his presence immediately gives off an air of refinement and dignity. He smiles graciously and says a few words of thanks, introducing the pieces of tonight’s performance and taking a steep bow. He turns and gently lifts his arms into a conductive position, fully aware of the power contained in such a simple movement. Still with anticipation, the audience waits, enchanted.

Swiftly they begin. A sound so momentous reverberates through the hall that my breath is quite literally taken away. It is extraordinary and pure, the equivalent of a thousand angels singing into the heavens. The conductor is like an artist, flourishing his baton as if it were a paintbrush sweeping over fresh canvas. A legion of violins move their bows up and down in perfect unison. A fleet of cellos and basses sway, feeling the deep internal beat of the music. The melodies and harmonies play with each other, fabricating an intricate design for the audience’s gratification. The heart and soul of every musician can be felt being poured into each and every note that they play until at last they are cut off.

One by one, a choir enters from the side of the stage until they have created a towering wall more than twenty feet high behind the orchestra. Curiosity is piqued, yet I keep my lips shut, for hunches must remain hunches. The conductor raises his arms once again, starting the orchestra off with a gentle gesture.  The piece begins softly, barely a whisper in the wind. It gradually grows, moving from a tender pianissimo to a playful mezzo piano. The intent ear begins to pick up the familiar melody of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. The orchestra quickens its pace. It gets louder and louder, accelerating every second, concentration increasing, passion growing, moving faster, swifter, stronger, bigger, better until the glorious moment when more than one thousand voices thunder through the hall. Tears stream down my face as I am overcome with the absolute beauty presented in front of me. My fists release their grasp on the plush seat and I slowly sit back, absorbing as much of the awe-inspiring sound as my ears will allow. The finale is met with a thunderous applause that engulfs the room, echoing up through the high vaulted ceilings as everyone rises to their feet.

Thousands of people stream out of the lobby as if they have just finished at the Queen’s Royal Ball. The distant scent of rain on asphalt looms in the air as they are brought back into the real world. Polished limos pull up to every curb, whisking their delighted passengers into the night. The familiar clack of countless heels hitting the pavement begins to diminish as others distance themselves from the magnificence of the evening. Enclosed in their cars, they reflect on the incredible performance. The chatter is gone and the music has stopped, but vivid memory and blissful feeling dwell in its place.