Rick James and Red Lights

She’s a Super Freak, Super Freak, she’s Super Freaky, Yow!
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

The chorus to that booty shaking and inappropriate Rick James song comes on just as I slow to a stop at the red light. I am jamming—singing loud, bouncing in my seat, arms a’flailin’—and I look to the car next to me. The driver sits there, oblivious to the perfect funk on my radio. I think that sucks.

Remember the charge you’d get when, under those same circumstances thirty years ago, you and the driver next to you would be rockin’ out to the same song on the local radio station? I loved that. Your eyes would meet, comprehension would click, you’d pump your fist in solidarity, crank the music louder and punch the gas pedal with a shared fervor when the light changed. Strangers bonded, your day better.

It’s a stoplight experience my kids will never know. And that saddens me.

With 300 cable radio stations, cd players, and iPod accessories—what are the chances that anybody is listening to the same thing at the same time anymore?
(Unless it’s Adele, I dare you to try and get away from her!)

It’s a small world and modern technology has made it even smaller. It’s true, to the most literal extent of the interpretation. The ‘small’ world has become singular. Individual. You. Emails, texts, social networks, and ear buds have replaced personal interaction and shared fist pumps.

The only people jamming along are the ones trapped in the car with me. And they’re not jamming. On the contrary, they’re scooting down into their seats. They think I’m a super freak.

Pardon my paraphrase, Master James, but I think that’s super sucky. Yow.

About Mary Fran Says

I am an artist, crafter, designer and writer. I enjoy working with mixed media-- applying visual and tactile manipulations to telling a story. Not a lot of market for that, though, :), so I'm focusing on short story submissions and novel completions. Yes, plural. Lots of beginnings, too many ideas, not enough focus.
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