Slight Detours | Wattys 2015

(6) ALLY

It felt good to be impulsive for once. Coming from a person who rarely took any risks, I'd say that was a huge psychological progression. I didn't know what would happen. I was with Jared, a guy I barely knew, on a misconceived road trip that had no destination. It was, with no doubt, a recipe for disaster.

We had no plan but, to be honest, I didn't mind as much as I thought I would. Don't get me wrong, I loved planning. I liked knowing what I wanted, what I was in for. It assured a straight path and plotted a course for the future.

My previous plans did fail, though- two to be exact- and now I was left without any answers for the questions swarming in my head. I'd gone with what I had and ran, without any what, when, how, or whys.

Despite that, I felt great. Free. And I meant that in a very real sense.

Only a few seconds ago, I had my entire upper body flopping out of the open window. The wind kissed my cheeks and blew around my hair but that wasn't the best part. The view was. It was stunning. The sun was half-hidden in the horizon, casting a glow that was unique only to sunrise. Clouds reflected the light, spreading the bright colors across the sky. I hated to admit it, but you didn't get much of this kind of beauty in New York since, you know, the buildings hid it all.

You could say that was the beginning of my realization. Without a plan, there were no boundaries. Without boundaries, the sky was the limit.

"I really wish I had a camera right now," I sighed, patting down my bird-nest hair. Jared's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror.

"Same," he whispered, mostly to himself.

For the next few minutes, songs I didn't know played on the radio. Well, that wasn't exactly out of the ordinary since I practically knew nothing about music other than, you know, W.A.M.

And no, that was not a rock metal band. It was an acronym for the non-metallic Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

In my opinion, his name was much more exciting than his music. Not that there was anything wrong with his music. It just became... boring after a while. Oh, and by a while, I meant seventeen years of my existence. Okay, maybe I was overreacting. I wasn't seventeen quite yet.

My birthday was next Tuesday.

Even though every bit of that was true, I had to give the guy some credit. His compositions did, in fact, make babies smarter. It was scientifically proven. I mean, I'd listened to Mozart when I was a baby. And we all knew Mozart equaled awesome babies.

It was when a particularly unique song came along that I'd abandoned my thoughts and the company of the window. To think of it, unique wasn't quite the word for it. It was unique to my ears and my ears alone.

I wake up every evening with a big smile on my face.

And it never feels out of place.

And you're still probably workin' at a nine to five base.

I wonder how bad that tastes.

I proceeded to unattractively scrunch my face at the odd lyrics. I mean, who sang about those things?

"All American Rejects," Jared mouths, tapping his finger and nodding his head to the rhythm. He seems to be enjoying himself just like this- driving while listening to music. The scene suited him.

"That's the name of the song?" I ask.

When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell.

When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell.

He laughs before saying, "Nope."