Prince & the Art of Being Open
Some moments arrive quietly. Others burst into your life and ask if you’re paying attention. My three nights with Prince were like that. They weren’t milestones in the sense of shaping who I became. Prince did that through whole albums, entire eras, and the soundtrack he laid under my life long before I ever saw him onstage. These nights were special for a different reason. They showed me what can happen when you stay open to the unexpected.
The first time was June 28, 1997 at the United Center. Chicago felt charged and warm and a little untouchable. The Bulls had just taken the championship. Michael Jordan wanted Prince in the building, so Prince showed up. My college roommate and I drove in from Madison with no plan other than to be part of the moment. Prince stepped onstage and the whole room shifted. You could feel the confidence radiating off him. The kind that doesn’t ask permission. The kind that makes you glad you made the drive.
When the concert ended, the night kept moving. Word spread that Prince was hosting an aftershow at Excalibur. Anyone who followed him knew that aftershows held the real surprises. We rushed over. My roommate got stopped at the door without a fake ID. He told me to go in anyway. I went inside expecting magic to hit again. Prince never came out. After a while I left and met my roommate outside. We walked back to the car with no disappointment between us. The magic had already happened. That night taught me to pay attention to what is unfolding instead of what I think should unfold.
Years later, on September 25, 2012, I saw him again at the United Center. Jennifer Hudson opened the show and later came back during his set to sing “Nothing Compares 2 U.” Their voices met in the middle of the song like they had been waiting for that moment. It felt like two worlds blending for a brief second. The kind of thing you cannot plan. You can only witness it.
And then there was June 30, 2013 at City Winery. Earlier that evening, Prince performed at the wedding of George Lucas and Mellody Hobson. After a night like that, most people would have gone home. Prince decided to give Chicago an aftershow. The venue was tiny. Tickets vanished as soon as they appeared. We managed to get the last two, because when Black Suit Nora tried, the entire show was already gone.
The room was full and loud and joyful. Prince came out ready to celebrate. He did not sit behind a piano or pick up a guitar. He sang from start to finish. When he broke into Partyman, the whole place exploded. The crowd moved like it had been waiting for that exact song at that exact moment. He said no photos. One person tried and was escorted out immediately. The rest of us stayed locked in, because everyone understood this night was meant to be lived, not documented.
Looking back at these three nights, I don’t think of them as chapters in some grand story about my life. Prince shaped plenty of that through the music I grew up with. These nights matter because they remind me what happens when you say yes. When you stay open. When you follow a feeling. When you choose to show up even without knowing what the night will become.
The best parts of my life have rarely been scheduled. They have arrived through instinct, timing, and a little luck. These Prince nights were proof of that. They were reminders that if you keep yourself open to the world, the world sometimes answers with something unforgettable.
Living well is not about predicting the magic. It is about being there when it shows up. And every time Prince appeared, I was there, paying attention
