Last night's subway ride home was so crowded I had to forgo my usual reading of the Daily News. I like Daily Dish, what can I say? Anyhoo, I was trapped in a position that wasn't exactly conducive to page turning so I put away the newspaper, strapped on the iPod and let the random shuffle feature entertain me all the way to Brooklyn.
First song up: George Michael's "Freedom '90." This pleased me. I nodded along to the bongo and tambourine intro and then had to bite my lip to keep from serenading my fellow passengers. I can't help it -- that song gets my blood pumping and just begs me to screech along to it. If you find yourself at a bar with me and that song comes on, you can pretty much guarantee that I will gesticulate wildly while giving back your "picture in a frame" and your "singing in the rain." It.just.must.be.done.
Yesterday's commute was a real test of wills because "It Takes Two" by Rob Base/DJ EZ Rock came on next. Oh, how I wanted to sing along. Imagine, if you will, me -- the biggest honkey ever -- succumbing to the pressure and loudly informing the New Lots Avenue-bound 3 train -- in between rhythmic gyrations and impressive pop-and-lock maneuvers, of course -- that "I'm number one, the uno, I like comp. Bring all the suckers 'cause all them I'll stomp." Seriously I'm so white, I make Debbie Boone look ghetto fabulous. My fellow riders would have either showered me with spare change for the laugh or beaten me senseless for insulting the art form. It could have gone either way.
When I see a person wearing headphones, I sometimes try to figure out what type of music he/she is listening to (provided it's not already bleeding out of the headphones making a tinny-sounding racket in an enclosed space. I hate that!!) But I do sometimes wonder if people try to guess what type of music I'm listening to based on my outward appearance. My selection would surprise most people because it's so wide-ranging. I have specific tastes of course but I do try to keep an open mind. I wish everyone did. I was at The Wiz in Wayne, NJ a few years ago buying a cordless phone and The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. The cashier looked at the CD, looked up at me, looked back at the CD and then once again at me. She actually said, "You want this?" She was floored that I would make such a purchase. I really wanted to say, "Oh heavens to Betsy! I meant to pick up Air Supply's Greatest Hits!! By golly, how on earth did this filth end up in the Easy Listening section?!" I abstained because I think the sarcasm would have been lost on her. And um, I think she was from Paterson and could have easily kicked my ass up and down the street. But in my mind, she got quite the earful, let me tell you. My bad-ass imagination made short work of her even if my actual self was too much of a wuss to do so. Ain't that always the way though?