Metro Music

Thanks for the positive feedback, the single death threat and the invites to come and live with you friends! I can confidently say that none of you have pissed me off in the way you handle my unemployment.  You've really been very helpful if you're reading this, so don't worry your pretty little heads.

Onward.

About six weeks ago, I was sitting next to one of the few empty seats on the red line on the way to my latest in a string of networking coffees.  As people filled in next to my train mates and left the seat next to me unfilled, I wondered, “Hm, is it something about me?”  I’d put on a nice dress, suitable shoes and deodorant.  I was even wearing makeup.

Plus, its public transport in DC.  Someone will always look worse than I do.   This is not snarky social commentary on the state of poverty, homelessness and socioeconomics in DC. That’s something different and walking around the city makes me a little sad everyday. I am not a Timberlake-Biel wedding guest who is amused at the stark contrasts between poverty and wealth.

No, it has much more to do with things like stonewashed tapered jeans and day glo leggings.  Nina Garcia would wryly refer to this as involving, “taste level.” The vacant adjacent seat must have been due to something else because my kelly green empire waist dress and denim jacket bordered on a Lily Pulitzer standard of bright, tasteful decorum. 

Then I figured, “Wait, can they hear my 2000s hip hop blaring?  Is Big Tymers "Get Your Roll On"* inappropriate for this train ride?” If so, I can’t believe those people were judging me.  Like they’ve never put their arms out of the window just to “floss their ice.” Hypocrites.

Of course, by the time my i-pod rolled through “Rompe” (remember when Daddy Yankee endorsed John McCain for President? jajaja) and into “Welcome to the Jungle” I had a seatmate.  Some music, it seems, is suitable for riding the subway with others in close range. 

Just so you know:

“Ro. Lex. Mo’ Sex” = Unacceptable.

“Te destruyen el club” = No es bueno.

“Feel my, my, my serpentine” = Great!

This reminds me when I was in the law library’s basement studying for exams 2L year and a friend asked me what I was listening to. 

I honestly replied, “Ice Cube. What are you listening to?”

He was a little shocked. “Bach! You listen to gangsta rap to study?!” 

Well, yea.  Good Day is the ideal study song. Its unflinching yet chill optimism was perfect for plowing through hearsay exceptions. I got a great grade on that Evidence exam and it wasn’t because I paid attention in class (I did not. I sat near two of my favorite people in law school and they cracked me up on IM, without fail, every day). No, my above-the-mean grade was clearly due, in small part, to Ice Cube’s delight that his mama cooked a breakfast with no hog.   

And when I finally do land a job in DC, it’ll partly be because on the way to endless informational interviews and networking, I lost myself a bit in the sweet musings of everything from "Bop Gun"** (“and Ima tell you I don’t like drama so do I have to put my handcuffs on your mama?”) to “Rock the Casbah”*** (“Sharif don’t like it, thinks its not kosher!”). 

*I watched this video because I linked to it and I hadn't seen it in a long time.  Its a ridiculous example of rap from a decade+ ago.  I also realized this is probably the most misogynistic song on my i-tunes. Sorrrrry.  I promise I have not internalized the lyrics.  Your wife is not my baby mama.

** Ice Cube and George Clinton? Best combination since Batman and Robin (doubly awesome if we're talking about George Clooney's Batman and Chris O'Donnell's Robin)

*** If you don't know this is one of my FAVORITE SONGS OF ALL TIME, we need to become better acquainted. Perhaps over a beer.