peril and hazard

"How many years have you been married," he asked. "It'll be thirty-five in March," my husband responded, which caused me to have exclamation points above my head. How can our twenty-fifth anniversary already be a decade ago!
Andre Rieu's concert tour brought him to Vancouver that spring, ten years ago and it seemed the perfect special evening to mark our special anniversary. Off we gaily went, dressed in evening finery.
We took the sky train so that we would have no worries at all, no traffic or parking to distract us from each other.
Front row seats awaited us.
Like the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears though, someone was sitting in our chairs.
It was an omen of sorts.
The seat mix-up was sorted out so pleasantly, like the calm before a storm, and we snuggled down to enjoy the show.
It was much later, as we emerged into the crisp night air, our eyes full of stars, that things began to go awry.
The sky train had been closed by the Police.
Everyone needing to travel into the valley from the city would need to be shuttled by bus.
Lines formed and the waiting began.
We had not dressed for a cool March night.
We huddled and leaned and clasped each other for warmth.
Hours ticked by.
Overstuffed buses came and went.
We were finally home as early birds stirred in their sleep.
Even then, it seemed a fitting metaphor;
An anniversary celebration that mirrored married life.
We had set out with high hopes but the unexpected loomed.
Life seemed fraught with peril and hazard.
Then turning to each other for warmth and comfort we travelled together, our thoughts on home.