Bobby

Driving down the road, another one of a million traffic lights turns red breaking my momentum and providing me the opportunity to yet again contemplate life without the hassles of starting and stopping. Sitting at the glaring red light I look to my right and notice a woman who appears to be singing along with her car stereo. Singing in a very animated manner, I began to wonder what song she was attempting to imitate. She was a young woman probably in her mid to late 20s, driving a small 4-door sedan that’s paint job matched that of the glaring red light which continued to torment me from above the intersection.I began to turn the radio dial in my car with the hope that I would possibly find the song that the woman in the red car was singing. While changing stations on my radio I glance up to see that the woman’s arms are now flailing about, presumably with the rhythm of the music.

“That must be a great song... or she’s clinically insane,” I thought.

After running through all of the stations on the radio with no luck, I come to the conclusion that she must be listening to a CD or MP3 player.

I decided I would lower my passenger side window to see if her music was escaping the interior of the little red car. With the window down my ears filled with the sound of idling engines, honking horns and the movement of big city traffic, everything but the song that continued to elude me.

“Perhaps if I get her to roll down her window I might be able to hear the mad woman’s music,” I wondered.

I began waving my arms attempting to get the singer’s attention. I continued to wave at the red car but the woman was too engaged in the rhythm of the song to notice, so... I started honking. Still no reaction, now I’m getting frustrated. What’s it going to take to get her attention?

With my passenger window down I begin lobbing freshly popped kettle corn at the woman in the red car. Kettle corn that was in route to a local children’s hospital before the glaring red light delayed its arrival. “I’ll just throw a couple of pieces, the kids will never know.” Piece after piece of donated popcorn flew through the air before colliding with the window of the little red car and still the lady sang and danced, arms flailing in no discernible pattern. A small pile of ill-children’s kettle corn began to form on the ground next to the woman’s car when I decided enough was enough. As I closed up the bag of popcorn the traffic light (which judging by this story must have been red for 45 MINUTES!) turned green. The red car sped away taking the dancing woman and her secret song down the road.

I’ll probably never know for sure what that woman was listening to but if I had to guess I would say it was either, Jefferson Airplane’s “We Built this City” or N.W.A’s “Straight Outta Compton.”

Just a guess...

If you’re reading this and you happen to “be” the lady whose car I assaulted with popcorn, then I’m very sorry and I hope that maybe someday we can get together for drinks... I think you might be my soulmate.