I belong in an 80s movie. This isn’t because I’m obsessed with John Hughes or that I’m hankering for teenage-style romance. And it is most definitely not due to my fashion choices (though there was an exchange student at Nampa High this year who could have fit into Teen Witch quite well). The reason I belong in an 80s movie has to do with my car stereo. The dang thing doesn’t work. I’m not kidding. There’s no radio, no way to play my cassette tapes, and the CD player is shot as well. The digital clock doesn’t even work; that’s one of the reasons I have to wear a watch all of the time. Some might think that not having a car stereo isn’t a big deal. After all, people on the Oregon Trail died of dysentery; they had more important things to worry about than a car stereo. But to a girl like me, music is a must. I need music to survive. It’s sort of like water and chocolate; it’s a staple in the life of Rece.
When I first started driving my car, I bought a cheap purple speaker to hook up to my iPod and I’d rock out to my jams while I cruised down the road. Then I went to Ukraine for a year and didn’t drive the car for a bit. Upon returning to Capone (that’s what I call my Cruiser), I had a solution. I needed to buy a new phone so I got my first iPhone. The nice thing about this iPhone is that you can play music OUTLOUD. You don’t need speakers or headphones to make it work. That was one of the key selling points. Well, that and the fact that I love all things Apple and I had been coveting my friends’ iPhones for years.
I learned quickly that when you’re driving for extended periods of time, it is important to plug in the iPhone to the cigarette lighter (though I don’t think it’s really called that anymore. There’s nothing you can light your cigarette on, but I’m a child of the eighties and I grew up calling it that.). It works. I listen to my music, whatever genre or band fits with my mood that day and I drive. But when I get to my destination whether it be home or work, I don’t always shut down the phone and music right away. There’s this lock feature on iPhones that makes you slide your finger across the screen to unlock before you can get to your app and I don’t always feel like doing that when I’m running late for work or when I really have to pee at my house. So I throw the phone in my pocket and book it to the destination point. Fun’s Nate Ruess belts out his tunes and the people, usually my housemates or people in the parking lot, look at me quizzically. At home, I’m not so quick to turn it off; I listen to my iPhone while showering so they have to put up with my loud music often. But the people at work don’t really know me that well and they don’t really appreciate the iPhone music from my jacket pocket.
I belong in an 80s movie because in an 80s movie, the cool kids throw boom boxes on their shoulders and carry them across the street. They go to the beach with them. Their friends hold their boom boxes against the car window frame to push their tunes on the people on the street or in cars around them. This is what my iPhone has done to me; it’s made me a cliché from the 80s.
I’m sure this realization should stop me. I should get that car stereo fixed and reserve my iPhone for games, Twitter, and taking pictures, but I won’t fix it. In fact, I’m cleaning house for a lady tonight and I’ll have to put the iPhone in my back pocket while I listen to whatever pumps me up while I clean up other peoples’ filth. It’ll be just like that 80s movie Maid to Order where the rich girl ends up becoming a maid and then… Ok, yeah. I know my life isn’t an 80s movie, but sometimes, it sure feels like it could be.
Tata for now.