Jesus, Leave The Wheel And Take The Aux Cord
We both know that making me the in-car DJ is just a friendship test.
Well, now you’ve done it. You put the AUX cord in my hand. Do you understand the pressure that you’ve just put me under? There’s four hours to this car ride. We’re never changing drivers. It’s going to be my music for the entirety of this trip, and I have weird taste. It’s been so long since you’ve asked what kind of music I’m into, so you probably don’t remember that I’m one of those people who said “everything.” And that when I said it, I meant it. I’m listening to French rap, Jamaican dance hall, orchestral movie soundtracks, nineties R&B, Japanese screamo. And that’s only while I was packing for this trip!
What you really want from this exercise is to see how well I know you. You’re giving me the AUX cord to keep you entertained and energized for the road ahead. If I pick John Mayer’s Daughters and it, inevitably, bores you, your eyes will glaze over, your hands will go slack, and someone will have to pick our bodies out of a ditch. If I please you — if I make a musical connection — then it cements our relationship. It obviously means that we’re fated to be friends, because how else would we both know all the words to Jungkook’s debut album?
But, if I get it wrong, you get a valid reason to press shuffle on our friendship. “We just didn’t like the same things” is a totally legitimate reason to leave someone on the side of the road.
Look, we both know music says a lot about a person. And while I want my playlists to say that I’m cool, mysterious, infinitely challenging, and worth the effort; I know they really say is that I’m the oldest librarian at a music festival. That I’m the mom lingering just outside the tent because she likes the music, but not the noise or the people. I’m moving my arms and legs and calling it dancing but everyone else is sidling away for fear of getting hit by flailing limbs.
Maybe, you know exactly what you’re doing. Maybe this road trip is the first off-key note before you turn down the volume on our time together. Why are we even driving to rural Wisconsin? To go to the Cheese Palace? We have cheese in the city. So maybe you orchestrated this whole expedition to figure out whether our friendship was worth having. Maybe my anxiety-induced rambles have been irritating you and you thought that if you could survive being trapped in the car with me, it would prove the strength of our relationship. Or maybe you just knew that putting the AUX cord in my left hand means I have to grab a Xanax with my right — knocking me out for the rest of the ride.
But you underestimated my desperation. You’re one of my few beloved friends and I refuse to lose you. So I’m going to keep my playlists to myself and reach for your phone. And if you don’t give me your phone to plug in, I’m going to drop both it and the AUX and reach for the wheel. Try thinking about your Spotify Discover while we’re careening into four lanes of oncoming traffic, asshole, because friends who die listening to Vanessa Carlton together, stay together.
