When you get on a train it’s always a crap shoot–who will you end up next to? Will it be some creepy fat guy who basically sits on you?
Or will it be a fratty group of dudes who are overly impressed with themselves?
Or will you like, totally luck out and get the girls who, like, totally think they are in a band.
Oh what if we try this arrangement instead?
I can’t go that high, can we bring it down an octave?
You don’t even have to try any longer…to make me want to kill myself–AND YOU!
Why? Why could it possibly be necessary to practice on a crowded Metro North train? As soon as I realized who I was stuck behind–the cover band from hell–I looked to the guy next to me to try and get a sympathy eye roll. I wanted to ask them, “excuse me will you be doing this for the whole trip? If so I’ll put my headphones on.” I don’t really want to hear you sing the same 3 lines over and over for the next 2 hours. I mean, I just can’t take it. It’s bad enough that the dude behind me has managed to somehow get his feet almost in my lap but if I have to listen to the Doublemint twins in front of me jamming to the same bad Corinne Bailey Rae song the whole way, I’ll freaking lose it.
Damn. The dude next to me is bouncing at Fairfield. I’m losing all backup! At least he seems equally annoyed so I know it’s not just me. They haven’t made it further than one verse and they’ve spent most of their time on the same 4 lines:
I thought that I was stronger
When you gonna realise, that you don’t even have to try any longer?
Do what you want to.
Girl, put your records on, tell me your favourite song
Oh here we go; to make matters worse I am in the bathroom car AND I am facing the backwards car and a creepy middle aged man is making this weird pursed duck lips face at me. Sir…that’s gross. Please stop. I’m not looking at you, you just happen to be in my line of vision. Now at least I can chat with Blondie who looks like my ex and my neighbor had a baby–weird–but he’s out soon and then I lose my backup. And my buffer zone–that’s even worse. Knowing my luck on this train I’ll get an even weirder seatmate which I just can’t risk. But how to make it look like someone’s here? Put my bag down and hope for the best I guess.
Oh this should be good. A girl just got on the train and busted up their little practice nook. It’s quiet. But for how long? What’s this? THEY ARE STILL SINGING! Ah, and this is fun–one of them is chewing gum. Now I stopped singing years ago but I do remember that gum is a no-no whilst doing one’s scales. You don’t think Shower Singer is chomping away when he belts out his arias do you?
I can’t believe this–35 minutes on one verse. And it’s not even your own song– someone has already worked out the key changes and the beat and, oh yeah, THE WORDS so what about this is so hard for you?! Could it be the acoustics on the train? Yeah I bet it could. That’s why trains are generally no singing zones!! Augh!
I wonder if they’ll take requests. Maybe a little Beyonce or some Brit Brit? All my singles ladies, now put your hands up, you, you you are a womanizer!
Fortunately Milli and Vanilli got off the train at Stamford. Ah…some peace and quiet–finally. Unfortunately the train has slowed and now stopped and lost all power just outside New Rochelle. At least they aren’t here to serenade us in the dark.
*Yes, I did actually spend my trip typing this post out and no, they never made it past that one verse and yes, the girl who sat through their rehearsal deserved a medal by the end of the night b/c just before Harlem some guy fell over and crushed her box of Special K–don’t feel bad for him, he lost his balance and tried to blame a leg cramp so he wouldn’t look quite so goofy.