Tabatha Deans

Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

Blasted! How embarassing

Today was a perfect day in every way. I was enjoying the incredible Colorado sunshine, with temperatures hitting above 70. The sky was clear, with a smattering of fluffy clouds, and I had been incredibly productive with my morning. I had filed stories, done some paperwork, cleaned up around the donation center, and had finished  my lunchtime errands with time to spare.

I was driving up Hampden on my way back to the office with the windows rolled down. The cool breeze was blowing my hair around, and I just got a  nice  haircut a few days ago so I was enjoying the hair blowing more than usual. I was feeling great and lookin’ hot, and to make things even better, the Pina Colada song came on. Actually, it’s a 1979 song by Rupert Holmes called Escape, but most people refer to it as the Pina Colada song because of its lyrics “If you like pina coladas, and getting caught in the rain…”

One of my favorite songs, it brings tears to my eyes then makes my heart swell every time I hear it, which isn’t often. I turned the radio up so I could hear and sing along with the lyrics as I cruised along. I wasn’t disappointed when I hit a red light, it gave me that much more time to listen to the song. I pulled to a stop alongside a garbage truck, and saw that the driver was getting back in his truck, after stepping down to give the homeless guy on the curb some change. The garbage truck didn’t have doors, and I thought he must be lucky to get to enjoy so much fresh air on a beautiful day.

Life was good as I sat waiting for the light to turn, halfway through the Pina Colada song. But then, I suddenly heard the sound of loud, thumping rap music. And it was coming from the garbage truck. Immediately offended, I considered rolling my window up, when I realized, the garbage man was “blasting” me. He was doing to me what I had thought of doing hundreds of times whenever a young “Punk” pulled up alongside me with his music blasting, having absolutely no consideration for me or anyone else and forcing us to listen to their horrible music. He was overriding my music with his own.

Aw Crap. I was now the “punk.” Only I was blasting sappy, 1970’s love songs for everyone else on the road to hear. I nonchalantly reached over and turned my music down, then, without making eye contact, slowly rolled my window up and waited for the light to change.

 

 

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April 13, 2016 - Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , , ,

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