It’s My Bus Ride, and I’ll Groove How I Want To

You know what really winds me around the axle?  (Someone who shall remain nameless but who lives with my mom and answers to the name “dad” told me that I needed to find a new phrase for “grind my gears,” because, according to him, “when you read all the posts in a row, it gets a bit repetitive.”)

When people on the bus judge the music I am listening to.
Their eyes linger  on my iPhone screen as I scroll through the seemingly endless possibilities and land on … maybe … Meatloaf.  Or Celine Dion.  Or the original broadway cast recording of Phatom of the Opera (I had a childhood crush on Michael Crawford and I am in no way ashamed of that fact).  Every once in awhile, I get a nod of approval.  More often than not, I get clear disapproval in the form of a sneer or a little scoff.
If I am feeling mellow and/or melancholy and want to listen to “When the Stars go Blue” or Colin Hay on repeat for the entire duration of the bus ride, that is my prerogative.  If I put on my “80’s Wonders” playlist while spanning the 15 blocks to my office and mentally live out my ultimate fantasy of fronting an 80’s cover band, that is no one’s business but my own.
Music snobs on the 1bx, you are Meccanizezd.
Written by lindsay in: Opinion | Tags: , ,

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