The arcs in my life commonly involve whimsical, spur-of-the-moment decisions. I have poor impulse control, as evidenced by my palsy-like dance moves. Take, for example, the other day, when I realized I had never busked before. Ever. It didn't take long to grab a hat, ninety cents in change, and work out the broad strokes of the plan, like some surrealist portrait. Go down to a metro stop in D.C., stand there, throw the change in the hat, sing, and see what happens.
Of course, I forgot to take into account how much I hate being around people.
It helped that I was meeting people at the stop, so there was a time limit imposed on my self-embarrassment (self-flagellation?). Got there a little early, and walked out to a crowd of people. Damn. I started smiling and laughing to myself, in that "Oh, God, he's got a plan" mode. There were a lot of people. A lot.
I had to walk away from the escalator opening and off to the side, and even then, I still found myself unable to drop the hat. And then I kept walking back and forth, trying to summon up the courage to sing a song. And really, how hard is it to sing a song? Just open your mouth and let loose with the lyrics. I even needed to call C.S. to tell me that this wasn't a crazy idea (which it was) and that I wasn't doing something stupid (which I was).
In the end, what could I do but just open up and sing? Since I'd walked around so much sweating through my clothing, I figured I only had time for two songs: Fly Me to the Moon and Yesterday. There I was, pacing back and forth, getting a few confused looks, making eye contact with a few people, scared witless, singing songs. Eventually, the net gain was zero cents, but at least now I can tell people I begged for money.
Somehow, that will sound more impressive when I tell the story in person.
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