Snow Day

My building anticipation for today could only be paralleled with a pupil’s anticipation for that ever-certain snow day. I had been invited to attend the first official state visit of President Obama’s presidency. I breathlessly counted down the hours until I would be hobnobbing with Barack and Michelle Obama, sharing a word, or song, with the Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, and observing the fanfare associated with the Arrival Ceremony on the South Lawn of the White House. Read: I was looking forward to being a distant member in the crowd.

So last night, instead of going to bed at a socially appropriate hour on a work-night since I was certain I would not be going to work in the morning, I spent the evening making (okay, maybe only attempting to make) sweet melodies and jamming out with Rock Band.

Side story: The day prior, our Mer-neighbors Megha and Valerie installed one of God’s greatest gifts to mankind – a 42” LG flat screen and Rock Band. So what started out as a small garage band, Shocking the Crustaceans, with roommate Hunter on the guitar, Megha on the drums, and me on vocals, turned into hours of musical dissonance. In our greedy attempt to earn enough money to hire a Merch Girl, we got lost in a sea of grungy 90s songs, if they can be called that.

I’m not sure where I was in the 90s, but apparently I was not the average angst-filled teen. My lack of 90s rock music is, as I found out, publicly embarrassing. It would be one thing if I were on the drums or guitar where, you can still succeed without knowing the song. But it is incredibly difficult to sing both the correct notes and lyrics when you have never heard the song before. I’m sorry, Rush, that I did not avidly listen to or illegally Napster your song about the maple trees forming a union and demanding equal rights from the oppressive oak trees…My performance was far from perspicuous; sounding similar to the dentist drilling while simultaneously vomiting.

Anyway – after touring with my band way past my bedtime curfew, and feeling much like a rebel pupil having avoided his homework, I proceeded to wake up with heavy eyelids and a phone call informing me that the Arrival Ceremony had been moved indoors and I was no longer an invited attendee. What a disappointment. So it was off to work after all, not even a two-hour delay? I guess that will teach me my lesson. Next time I’m invited to an official state visit I’ll make sure to wear my pajamas inside out the night before.