Sing a Song

I happen to live in one of the most tricky traffic areas in the city. Things can get really congested really fast in my 'hood. One day it's clear as a bell, the next I sit in my car for 50 minutes to go 1 block. You never know. Thankfully, I have several choice mix CDs at hand, as well as the beloved satellite radio to keep me company.

I am a car singer, to the utmost degree. I know the words to a song after about the third time I hear it, so I am left with many choices to exhibit my vocal stylings.

When I am in the car, I open those windows and push back the moonroof (because I'm afraid if I turn on the A/C my car will explode). Then, I belt out the latest worthy tune. Once, while driving down University Blvd. in Denver, I was singing "Circle in the Sand," by Belinda Carlisle. As the song faded out, the family of four in the car next to me began applauding. I bowed and drove away.

My gal pal Chelse was driving around town with the ever-so-presh Miss Debs. Debs was upset about something, and as they headed north on Highland, she was really revved up over this issue. When they hit Franklin, Chelse interrupted the slew of angry words to say "Is that Grae coming towards us?" Debs squinted her eyes.
"You mean that girl singing her ass off in that Jetta?" she replied. They looked at each other and said in unison, "Yeah. That's Grae."

I didn't notice them (because of the rockin'), but when Chelse told me the story later, she added that it was the perfect thing for Debs to see, because it helped her get perspective. See? The rock brings people together.

I don't think that my singing is super de-duper, I think the spirit behind it is. I pick up one of the 5 water bottles in my car and pretend it's a mic. I make rock star faces that involve closed eyes, snarling, and an air of indifference. I sing loudly and unapologetically. And sometimes I even sneak in the back-up vocals, if I'm feeling sassy. I figure that if you're going to make an ass of yourself in public, you have to commit to it and make no excuses for yourself.

So yesterday was a bad traffic day for my 'hood. I got trapped in the left lane, needed to be one over to the right, and no one would let me in. I looked one old woman in the eye, smiled, and yelled, "Can I come in?" and she shook her head solemnly "no." So I laughed, and said, "Allright sweetheart, I'll do it without you," and I scooted in a couple of cars ahead.

It was at this point that I realized that I was in control of my own Traffic Fun Level. Was I going to let Grams piss me off and ruin my evening? Sure, I was late to dinner and I was sweaty from the gym, but why should it matter? So I turned on the Song to End all Traffic Songs.

This is the song that began the Mighty G's and my trip to Vegas this fall. Also, I recently chose it to sing at my pal DS's birthday gathering. And should I mention the joy it brought me in my youth?..."Nothin' But A Good Time," by Poison. Oh yes, my darlings. Oh yes.

I had my windows down and my system up, just like Eminem says. And I sang the hell out of that song. During the very long instrumental break, I looked around at my brothers and sisters on the front line of the Traffic War, and they were tapping on their steering wheels, headbanging, laughing, and humming along. I think I had backup from an entire air-instrument band as well. Drums, base, guitar--they were all there.

For a brief moment on the service road of the 101, there was joy in the commuter's faces.

We had shared a rock moment. And then traffic started to move. We discovered that sure enough, they had blocked off a lane on Barham, and that was the cause of this debacle. Even though we sped up and continued our journies, the spirit of that moment lingered on for me all through the night.

here's to ya. g