Music from another room

Wilson Philips is not cool. They may have been at one time, but that time has come and gone. Even more uncool is a guy singing Wilson Philips and quite enjoying himself.

Now normally, I’m quite careful to reserve my uncool behaviour when I’m home alone – far from the judging eyes of friends and colleagues – but this obviously wasn’t normal.

I’m at the lights when Wilson Philips comes on and I (fuck this is embarrassing) turn up the volume and belt it out:

"Don’t you know…things’ll change…things’ll go your way, if you hooooooooold on for oh fuck me dead someone’s looking at me."

Yup.

A rich someone (brand spanking new BMW 1-Series).
A nice-looking someone (female, 20-23, blunt cut bangs, nice lips).

I stop singing the way we stop discussing a colleague’s fat, cellulite-riddled ass when she walks into a room: It’s unnatural, and you’re not fooling anybody. She doesn’t do me the courtesy of looking away. She just looks at me. And then, through the glass, I see her lips move:

“Someday somebody’s gonna make you wanna turn around and say goodbye-eye!
Till then babay are you gonna let ‘em hold you down and may you cry-eye!”

And I sing back up. And we are fucking hitting all the notes like karaoke night and my God it’s so beautiful when the girl smiles.

I pull the handbrake and get out, leaving the door open. I run over to her car and I don’t even gotta tap. The power window goes down.

Me: Will you go out with me?
Her: Aren’t you supposed to ask for my number first? My name at least?
Me: No. If you don’t go out with me, I don’t even wanna remember today. Will you go out with me?
Her: We’re in the middle of the road!
Me: You better hurry then.

She shakes her head and mumbles “Fucking psycho,” but I get a name. And a number.*

The lights go green, have been for two seconds, which activates the horns of all the cars behind us and we snap back to reality. And like the final verse of our duet, the last bit of our perfect chemistry, we both hit the gas, and wave goodbye to each other.

I turn left, she turns right.
And I don’t stop smiling til somewhere after lunch.



*This middle bit in italics is completely made up. But the rest is real.