So I’m on my way to work this morning, listening to Radiohead’s Let Down (not that I was or anything. Let down, I mean.), which I love. It has to be one of The Best Effing Songs Ever Written. Ever. Anyway, I’m driving along, all the windows down, just wailing like I’m drunk and it’s karaoke night (not that I was or anything. Drunk, I mean.), “Let down and hangin’ around…” Seriously, I’m belting it out like the next American Idol (the one that didn’t make it past the auditions), totally into it, concern and worry suspended, sun shining down, bass thumping, wind blowing in my hair, hell yeah!
When suddenly, I realize I’m not alone. Someone is lurking. Sneaking. Watching. Yup. The guy in the car next to me, all “look at me, I’m Mr. Shirt and Tie and Mobile Communications Device Man, and I drive a Lexus,” and he’s staring at me like I’m crazy. Me. Crazy. I know!
Now normally, I would be totally mortified. But I was in a mood today. A rare one.
“What is that guy so angry about?” I thought. “I’ll show him!” So I crank up the volume, my singing becoming an outright performance, chest rising and falling with each line, mouth opening extra wide for the Ohs and La la las, hittin’ it off the high hats on my armrest-dashboard-steering wheel-thigh drum set to set it off right, rat tat tat tat badabadabadabada bap, and I’m all pleased with myself and my happy little concert-on-wheels, just rockin’ out like a champ, all forget this angry guy and his angry… anger! Yeah!
When without warning, though I’ve sung the song alone in the car a hundred and fifty thousand times, I.Totally.Forgot.The.Words. Uhhhh…
It’s like the universe is saying, “Hey, Funkmaster Sarah, don’t make me come down there and give you The Chair!” And all I wanted to do was have a little fun (at the expense of others) on my way to work today. Sheesh.
So, in honor of Mr. Shirt Tie Mobile Communications Device Man, on your way to work tomorrow, roll down all your windows and sing along with your favorite song as obnoxiously loud as you can. Maybe throw a little air guitar in there, too. And if you happen to ride the subway to work, well hell, don’t be shy – straphangers need air-guitar-lovin’, too.