There are concerts… and then there are nights that feel like a full-blown personality trait.

This past St. Patrick’s Day, I had the absolute honour (and emotional out-of-body experience) of seeing my idol, Alan Doyle, perform at the Thunder Bay Community Auditorium. And let me tell you—this wasn’t just a concert. This was a spiritual awakening wrapped in fiddle music and questionable amounts of Guinness.

Let me take you back.

The moment I found out he was coming to Thunder Bay, I was deep in a group chat spiral with my chosen siblings—Scotia and Bryson—when all rational thought left our bodies. We entered what can only be described as “we must make this happen or we will never emotionally recover” mode. Bless their beautiful, efficient souls, they signed up for the presale and secured us seats so good I’m still considering framing the ticket confirmation email.

Now, to really understand the magnitude of this moment, you need to know this: we are not casual fans. No, no. We are emotionally invested. Especially Scotia and I—we’re talking lyrics-that-live-in-your-bones, scream-sing-like-you’re-in-the-band level obsessed. Alan Doyle has this way of transporting you—like one minute you’re in Northern Ontario, and the next you’re in a Newfoundland kitchen party with a drink in your hand and no responsibilities.

And if—if—you don’t know him (which feels incorrect, but I’ll allow it), he rose to fame with Great Big Sea and has since become a full-blown Canadian icon. Musician, storyteller, author… honestly, overachiever energy in the best way.

Now, here’s where things get very Northern Ontario. We weren’t even sure this concert would happen. Because of course, in Thunder Bay, March isn’t spring—it’s what I like to call Fool’s Spring. That magical time when the sun comes out just long enough for you to believe in happiness again before Mother Nature absolutely body-checks you with a snowstorm. And yet, like the true Canadians we are, not a single one of us considered not going. Snowstorm? Irrelevant. We’ve seen worse walking to get coffee. And apparently, so has Alan Doyle.

At 8:05 PM, we watched as he and his band rolled in, fresh off weather delays, unloading gear like absolute legends. By 8:45? Show. Was. On. I’m sorry—what? The resilience. The commitment. The sheer “we will not be defeated by snow” energy. It was, quite frankly, the most Canadian thing I’ve ever witnessed.

Inside, the vibe was exactly what you’d hope for on St. Patrick’s Day: a sea of green, pints of Guinness, a little Jameson courage, and a crowd fully ready to pretend we all had Irish ancestry. (On this day, we are the cousins from the East Coast. No one can tell us otherwise.)

And then he hit the stage. From the first note, Alan Doyle did what he does best—made a packed auditorium feel like your living room. He told stories that had us crying laughing, cracked jokes like we were old friends, and sang in a way that felt less like a performance and more like a shared experience. At one point, I’m fairly certain I felt spiritually hugged.

It’s rare to come across artists who feel genuinely good. Not just talented—but kind, warm, and deeply human. He’s one of those people. The kind that reminds you there’s still authenticity in the world… and also that you should probably be singing louder.

Now, I made a promise to myself that this year was about checking things off the bucket list—and this? This was one of those moments. Not across the world, not wildly out of reach… but right in my own backyard. And maybe that’s the point.

We wait for the big trips, the big plans, the big moments—but sometimes the magic shows up on a cold March night, in a packed auditorium, with the people you love beside you and a song you know by heart.

So here’s your nudge:

• Go to the concert.
• Laugh too hard.
• Sing too loud.
• Say yes to the night out.

Go see Alan Doyle if you ever get the chance.

And honestly? If you really want to understand it all—just book the trip to Newfoundland.

Trust me.