Ticket To Ride

𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 : 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐏

      The stuffy back room was alive with music and laughter as kids swung each other around and around until I was sure they'd be sick. Oh, and there was also the slight smell of feet as everyone moved around barefoot. A few had crowded around the guitarist, shouting out song titles. A very close boy-girl pair didn't seem to notice anyone around them as they danced like there was no tomorrow. Everyone's attention was focused on a man sitting on a stool against the wall, his guitar resting on his knee as he played, bobbing his head kind of like Ringo. I used this time to hide my shopping bag in a corner. Tom pulled me through the dancers toward him, and as we got closer, the man lifted his head and lit up at seeing Tom. His bangs swept across his forehead as his head moved.

      "Hey, Micky!" Tom called out over the music.

      "Hiya, Tom!" Micky smiled back, noticing me being brought up to the front. "Hello there. Who's this then, man?" He looked cheekily at the boy.

      Tom and I just laughed. I wanted to kiss Tom on the cheek, just to see what he or Micky would do. Not that I liked him. I complimented him on his guitar work and he even let me pluck a few strings.

     "Margie, meet Micky Dolenz. Micky, meet Margie."

     Micky was always smiling, always energetic as he played. He was in his twenties, but he was just so darn silly that he could've passed for a kid. Sometimes, he would shake his hair like crazy if the song was high-energy. He also spoke like he had been eating nothing but candy and cake all day, but liked to tell jokes while talking fast. Other times, he would slip into a funny accent in between songs. He was a one man show! He could be a good actor. When we shook hands, I learned that he had a might strong grip as he nearly turned all the bones into dust with a rough handshake. My hand was all pink, but I didn't mind. He told me about how his band was going to be bigger than the Beatles someday, letting everyone hear one of his songs. Everyone clapped to the beat and shouted the chorus along with him.

Hey! Hey! We're the Monkees!

     The Monkees? I can't call it odd because I like a group named after bugs, but the Monkees just sounds plain silly. When he was done, everyone cheered louder than they had before. Apparently, monkeys were popular in California.

"You kids are lucky, you know that? The album hasn't even come out yet, and you already know it by heart." Everyone cheered real loud, so Micky took a bow.

He went over to the snack table to get a drink. Tom and I had some cookies and chips, which is when Micky took notice of my Beatle button.

     "'In case of emergency, call John.'" He read aloud.

     Now that there was no music, a few kids had heard him and took a look at my button. It was a little awkward to say the least, but I sort of liked the attention. Mostly, people said "cool" and moved on.

     "You still have a Beatles button?" A girl wearing tons of makeup asked, raising a penciled eyebrow. "Aren't they... I don't know, weird?"

     I crossed my arms and shook my head. Yeah, some of the Revolver songs were... different, but I was slowly warming up to a few of them. "Eleanor Rigby" made me feel sad, but it was still pretty. "Love You To" made me feel as if I had been transported to India.

     "I like 'Yellow Submarine,' and that one doesn't sound weird." When I listened to "Yellow Submarine" for the first time, I danced around my room and acted as if I were in the marching band at school.

     "Not if you're six." She scoffed. "Though all you're missing is pigtails."

     Are baby blue culottes and sailor shirts not cool anymore? Why did I think she was just a snobby six-year-old wearing enough makeup to look thirteen? (Or even older, I couldn't tell.) Why did I care what she thought anyway? All I knew was that I was standing there not saying anything and hoping I wouldn't break down crying.