Popovers before making my way to the Starbucks across the street. It's monsooning rain, of course, & I'm carrying my overloaded purse along with a computer bag that contains, you know, my computer (the heavy one) and my iPad. I'm also trying to maneuver a very ugly, very broken purple umbrella, & the construction workers a few feet away have a good laugh at my expense as I struggle to open it & get soaked in the process.
And then I hear it. The music. Is it my phone? Is that Micaela's ringtone? She's the only person I'd give this song to because of that time we burst into song at lunch at work a long time ago. But Micaela & I don't talk on the phone. Why is Micaela calling me?! I struggle to locate my phone within the abyss that is my hangbag, & it's not ringing - but the music is still playing.
Is it my computer? I just put it in standby mode; maybe something is amiss. I pull my entire laptop out of its bag, out of its case, & hold it close to my ear, listening for the music that's now drawing stares from passersby - and laughs from the same construction workers.
It is not my computer.
OH, GOD, WHY THIS SONG? I swear I have better taste in music than this. I like Elton John & the Beatles
And then I discover it. My iPad, blaring like a stereo. I had no idea it could be so loud. And isn't it supposed to turn off when the cover is on it? What woke it up? How did this happen? Most importantly, how do I turn it off? Struggling to balance my umbrella (because it's still monsooning, naturally), I dig for it. I take it out of the Neoprene sleeve. I open the flip cover. I push buttons. I hit it aimlessly. People are laughing at me. I am soaking wet, but my iPod is safe & dry.
And, finally, off.
It's on pause, leaving me vulnerable to future attacks. I am unembarrassable, but today has done the trick. I am awkward beyond awkward. Zooey Deschanel's "New Girl" may cute & full of whimsy, but she's got nothing on legitimate awkwardness of this caliber.
I don't know if I'll ever be able to hear the Backstreet Boys' "The Call" without remembering this moment.