Camo

I was talking aloud in the car the other day and thinking how great the invention of the Bluetooth is for those of us who do that sort of thing. But when it comes to singing, the Bluetooth is a grossly inadequate shield. Once that whole performance gesturing thing gets going when you're belting out an old show tune like When You're A Jet, there's just no way to camoflague it.

California lane buddies pull alongside and the first thing they do is give cursory glances this way and that. I think it's because they think something better is going on in the next car and they don't want to miss out. In places like Chicago, lane buddies don't want to know what's going on in the car next to them because they really, really don't want to get involved. So they just stare straight ahead as if they're the only ones on the road which they might as well be.

When westerner lane buddies encounter a live performance, they fall into one of two subgroups. They either -- a) nod and smile because they, too, are cabaret car singers and realize how silly they look, -- or -- b) mutter something to their passenger who also snaps and stares, mutters something back, probably about me being off my nut, and discreetly change lanes. But really, how can subgroup B not fess up to knowing how amazing car acoustics are, especially with music cranked up just enough so we can delude ourselves into thinking we've got amazing pitch? The pervs.

Car etiquette otherwise is pretty straightforward except for one thing which is really important. Next time you have marshmallow peeps stuffed in your cheeks and hit a red light with lane buddies on either side, here's what to do: stop chewing and swallowing to remain undiscovered. Try not to gag up those sugar crystals dripping down your throat and saliva closing your esophagus from over-stimulated taste buds. When the light changes, and it will after it goes through an eight stage cycle including turn lanes, being slow on the take off will give you just enough time chew and swallow.

Oh and don't forget the Golden Rule: Never never ever ever pick your nose in the car even if it's in the middle of the night with no one around for 100 miles. You're in a box with windows, Man: someone will see.