“Hey everybody take a look at me, I’ve got street credibility.” George Michael spits truth and funk as I make my way to algo at around 8:57 AM. I’m dodging and weaving through the crowds: gaggles of Canada-Goose girls, couples taking up two-thirds of the sidewalk. Pass me or be passed, suckers; these steel-toe waterproof boots aren’t holding up for anyone. Up ahead, I see a busy intersection.
“Hey! Hey jerk, you work, This boy’s got better things to do.” Doesn’t George Michael technically have a job as a singer? As usual, during class changeover time, the line of cars is massive at each stop sign at the three-way intersection by Uris Hall. Small clusters of people appear at each crosswalk, with some sweet little Asian girl obediently waiting for the car to go by, but scurrying across when a jogger blasts through. There’s always people crossing, crossing, crossing… the first car can only edge up, wait, edge up, wait…
“Wham, bam! I am a man. Job or no job, You can’t tell me that I’m not.” The music courses through me like adrenaline. Why the hell should I stop and let any cars go? They’re just another obstacle to dodge, a hunk of metal at that. There’s hundreds of students that have places to go, classes we’ve paid too much to go to. I’m going to miss my professor’s carefully calculated latest pop culture reference because YOU couldn’t wait another 2 seconds? My swift steps will cover that crosswalk before you can mutter your favorite traffic cuss under your breath.
“Do you enjoy what you do? If not, just stop.” As if I heard a careless whisper utter the lyric, I stop. I don’t enjoy waking up to go to this awful class. I know the professor will joke about crazy Ithaca weather. Do you enjoy what you do? I… I don’t think I… but then what do I… If not, just stop. And I have stopped. I hear car horns blaring. A blue bus is rounding the corner right towards me. But I do not move. I don’t enjoy what I do. My eyes finally slide to the car directly in front of me. George Michael nods slowly in the driver’s seat, dressed all in white in a baby blue Kia. “Don’t stay there and rot,” he whispers, before revving the car and flying over me and into the beyond. I did not stay there and rot.
“Do you want to work? – NO / Are you gonna have fun? – YEAH.” Everybody say Wham! – WHAM! / Say Bam! – BAM! / Everybody say Wham! – WHAM! / Say Wham, Bam! – WHAM! BAM! / Can you dig this thing? Are you gonna get down? Said one, two, three, rap, c’mon everybody / Don’t need this crap!
“Everybody say Wham! – WHAM! Say Wham, Bam! – WHAM! BAM!”
Matt Barker ’19