The next Kelly Clarkson

Have you ever been on the subway when its really quiet, yet there are easily 50-100 people sitting around you? This happens a lot and I love it (not the volume of co-passengers, the quiet). I like the dome of silence that most people enter into on public transport. Its a respect thing. Its unspoken, no one teaches this to you. Its conditioned. You conform so that you blend in and mostly everyone wants to blend in. I’m not talking about when you’re with your friends or you’ve run into someone you know. Its not like you take up pantomime in order to abide by the rules of quiet. I’m talking about when you’re riding alone. There are certain rules. You don’t talk to strangers. You don’t talk on your cell phone on the streetcar (or if you do, you’re one of the worst people ever born). You don’t engage the otherwise busy driver in conversation about meaningless things. But what you certainly never do is sing! You know who I’m talking about.

She’s sitting there and has absolutely no shame. She’s singing some smooth R&B or Top 40 piece of shit. She actually doesn’t sound half bad. And yet. She’s singing. Its not like she’s so immersed in her iPod world that she’s momentarily forgotten that though she cannot hear others, others can most certainly hear her. Nope, that’s not it. You see, she’s showing off. The TTC is her forum, her Greek Theatre, her House of Blues. She’s belting it out now, gesticulating with her manicured hands as her vocals cascade up and down. In New York, Concrete jungle where dreams are made of, There’s nothing you can’t do. If I never have to hear that song again I will die happy. Singing aloud is second only to the annoyance factor of public whistlers. Who are you flagging down? A cab? Because, newsflash, you’re on a moving vehicle already. We don’t care if you have the Andy Griiffith Show theme song in your head. Keep it to yourself!