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“Making my way downtown, walking fast, faces pass, and I’m home bound.” Vanessa Carlton sang those sweet, sweet words in 2002 and was catapulted into a momentary life of fame and fortune. I’m not sure what Vanessa has been doing with her time since then, as I’m fairly certain this was the only hit of her career, but I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that my life was forever changed when I first heard “A Thousand Miles.”
That piano intro? Those really intense violin notes? The sick ass music video where she’s absolutely shredding a Steinway grand piano on the back of a moving truck while it takes her through the streets of Newbury, California?
I’m sorry but for my money it honestly doesn’t get a whole lot better than “A Thousand Miles” by Vanessa Carlton.
I love this song. One of my favorites to throw on when I am actually walking around downtown Chicago shopping, grabbing lunch, or cursing my existence as I walk into an office where everyone is at least ten years older than me and jokes about funny memes fly a million miles above everyone’s head.
I’m not going to apologize for bowing down at the altar of Vanessa Carlton. Is she a one hit wonder? It’s possible. I’m not going to look up her Wikipedia page to check. That’s a little too much work to ask me to do this morning. The reason I mention this song on this particular morning is important, though.
My apartment is in complete shambles right now. The hot water heater is broken, and as a result, my roommates and I were forced to shut down all water operation indoors over the weekend.
We’ve been living in abject squalor for the better part of three days now, and when I woke up this morning without taking a shower and walked to my train stop, I knew I probably wasn’t going to have the greatest day ever at work. I bought an iced americano across the street from where I begin my commute, and I hopped on the train. So far, so good. I even got to sit down for a portion of my ride to the office which is usually not an option.
I was listening to This American Life as I got off of my train and I began to think to myself that maybe life isn’t so bad after all. Maybe my shitty landlord will have everything at my apartment fixed by the time I get home from work this afternoon. And then it happened. I was probably a minute and a half into “A Thousand Miles.”
I was walking fast with my head down, and I was work bound as hundreds of faces passed me. I took short, deliberate sips from my very mediocre iced Americano when I ran into a woman who had stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of a crowded sidewalk to text or type directions into her stupid Android phone.
Why people insist on stopping in the middle of sidewalks is beyond me. It creates chaos. Bottle necks and people bumping into one another abound. And it’s all because one person decided that the center of a busy sidewalk was the best possible spot to stop everything they were doing to type something into their phone.
My iced Americano flew out of my hands, and with the top becoming dislodged as I tried unsuccessfully to catch it, the contents of the cup landed squarely on my crisp, freshly laundered white oxford button up. The Banana Republic khakis that I had the oxford tucked into were also a casualty.
There’s no moral to this story. There’s no happy ending here. It’s Monday, I’ve got Vanessa Carlton’s “A Thousand Miles” stuck in my head, and I smell like stale coffee. Ironic? Possibly. Incredibly sad that this is how my week has begun? Absolutely.
Everyone have a great week. Christ on a fucking cracker. Shit. Ass. Damn. .