If there’s one thing I can’t stand more than sitting at home all night … well, I haven’t figured out what it is yet. The idea of sitting at home all by myself, wasting what surely could be a chance to do something, depresses me to no end.

I’m not saying I like to have the most exciting night of my life every night — simply hanging out with friends fills the void — but every now and then, I have an urge to do something completely new, really step out of my comfort zone and see where it can lead.

So when a friend of mine suggested we see the Prague Symphony Orchestra on Thursday, I was all about it. I mean, I had never been to a symphony, and a world-famous one seemed like a good place to start.

Like with all new things, however, I was a little hesitant at first, especially in this case. I’ve always felt like classical music carried a bit of an upper-class stigma, where a casual kid like me wouldn’t fit in. Sure, this idea was totally unfounded and outright ridiculous, but, oh well, that’s how I felt and it wasn’t my only concern.

Right off the bat, I had perhaps the two least-male thoughts ever, right in a row — “What am I going to wear,” and “Man, I’m going to have to miss ‘The O.C.'” Luckily, with a pair of Gap jeans and a promise to myself to buy season two on DVD, I was really excited again. Thursday evening rolled around, and, looking like runway models, we headed to Stephens Auditorium for our date with high society.

As we made our way up front to take our seats, I noticed the atmosphere was less uptight than I had imagined, but it still had a certain upscale feel to it. This was probably from the lack of youthful faces in the audience.

As the symphony filed in and took their places, the crowd gave a pre-emptive round of applause, which I figured meant that the crowd expected a lot from the orchestra, and, believe me, it delivered.

From the first perfectly tuned chord, I was hooked. The music was so precise and powerful at the same time. The conductor waived his little baton around with poetic elegance, and his exaggerated movements brought forth a whirlwind of emotion conveyed through music.

At times, the symphony could bring forth a loud, chaotic movement and, on a whim, transform into a quiet, brooding melody, soft enough to be interrupted by a whisper.

As I was sitting there — I couldn’t help but smile — I was enthralled by the experience. I couldn’t believe I had managed to go my entire life without seeing something this impressive. I had been worried that everyone would certainly spot us and know we were impostors, but it was nothing like that.

In fact, despite a couple little things we didn’t know about, we blended in perfectly. For instance, applause is for some reason awarded to some pieces while others are met with absolute silence. This little observation came after being one of about five people in the crowded auditorium to clap after a piece.

The performance ended just as quickly as it began. I was surprised that I was able to sit through the entire thing and not once feel bored; it kept me interested throughout and even left me wanting more. It actually made me interested in the style of music, and I remember thinking I should listen to some classical music at some point, instead of waiting for the classical breaks on my Dimmu Borgir records.

I came to the realization that I should be doing things like this more often. The only way to become a more worldly person is to get out and try all sorts of new things.