Brooklyn Baby - The Beginning of Lana Del Rey

Part 1- Summertime Sadness

Someone was yelling, announcing that there was one minute to showtime. My palms were sweaty and my hands were shaking. The audience was chanting for me to come out. Lights started to flash, and the intro to my hit song started to play over the speakers. I slowly walked out, positioning myself under the blinding spotlight. I opened my mouth to start singing and-

"Lizzy? Earth to Liz?"

"Huh?" I looked up at Amelia, my only friend I had at Ruby Tuesday, the restaurant where we both worked as waitresses. "Sorry, I guessed I zoned out for a second."

"If you don't stop daydreaming every minute, the boss is gonna catch you soon. Anyways, you've got three tables that haven't had their orders taken yet," Amelia said, annoyed that I hadn't been doing as much work as her.

"I'll try to stay focused from now on, I promise," I said as I gathered my waist apron and server notebook.

As I walked through the bustling crowd over to the impatient families waiting for service, I realized how much I hated this job. Not this job, in particular, just pointless careers that don't go anywhere. After spending 3 years at Ruby Tuesday, you think I would have quit by now, due to the fact that I keep telling myself I am not meant to be a waitress. I had to be something more, the drag of the mundane routine I had created while working here had sucked me into a rut. One where I became too scared to leave but too bored to stay. But every time I discuss this with myself, I just shove the thoughts away for a little while longer before deciding what to do next.

I approached a table with four rugged men. They looked rough, but not stern, approachable to a certain extent.

"Hi! I am Lizzy and I will be your server tonight. Can I get anything for you guys to drink?" I forced a smile.

"We'll all take a beer, whatever you have on tap," the biggest one declared. He smirked at me as I shoved my book in my apron, not needed to write down such an easy order.

"Will do, I'll have that out for you shortly," I mumbled quickly, uncomfortable from our exchange.

I gathered the drinks and put them on the tray, weaving my way around the tables back to the men. Setting the tray down, I distributed the bottles to their owners.

"Thank ya very much, good lookin," commented a man with a bandana and leather vest.

"Oh! Your welcome," I exclaimed, caught off guard from the directness. I was used to people acknowledging my appearance, but not in a Ruby Tuesday. It wasn't the kind of place that these types of guys go to often.

The big one stretched out his arm and snatched my name tag.

"Hey! Wha-"

"Lizzy? It is?" he said. "Pretty name for a pretty girl."

It was violating. "Thank you that's very sweet," I said almost sarcastically and quickly shuffled off back to the kitchen without taking their food order.

Luckily, I convinced the boss to let me switch tables with Amelia.

As I served the rest of my tables that night, mentally I was barely at Ruby Tuesday at all. I was imagining a world where I didn't have to have a day job to pay my bills, and I could just focus on my dreams.

"Come on Amelia!" I called across the kitchen as I gathered my belongings and headed out the building's back door to the parking lot.

"I need to tell you something!" she yelled as she chaotically ran towards me, her black hair flying behind her. Our appearances were stark opposites. My skin was as white as a wedding dress, but hers was as dark as leather. My hair hung short and bleached blonde, whereas hers reached her waist in a million tiny braids. Despite our different looks, our minds worked exactly the same.

"Tomorrow there's this singer performing here. She's really underground," Amelia said excitedly.

"Wow, really? I didn't know we had small singers, I thought we just played bands."

"No, the boss said that the restaurant needed more live music, and said we should give struggling singers a chance. I don't know if he's nice or rude" she giggled.

"It's going to be interesting, I can't wait," I said as I walked into the parking lot.

The balmy June air encased us both in a moist layer that clung to our skin. The heat of summer was coming in fast, and I couldn't wait. It was my most favorite season. Summer was made for me.

As Amelia drove me home that night in her rusty red truck from the '70s (we carpooled because her parents pay for gas) I pictured myself up on stage, seductively singing into an old microphone with a live jazz band behind me.

I yearned for the reality of my dreams, but I reminded myself that my imagination goes a little wilder than most.