Nothing I enjoy more than an unanticipated jaunt through downtown Tucson at 10:30 p.m. on a Wednesday on account of highway construction in a car that has an ignition problem.
Unless said jaunt includes M.C. Hammer.
Meth heads! Crack whores! Crazy drunken guy passed out on the railroad tracks! Out of my way! It's 10:30 on a Wednesday night! You know what that means, don't you?
Why, it's Hammer Time, of course!*
And thus, once again, M.C. Hammer saved the day with a stirring rendition of "U Can't Touch This" -- followed closely by a bunch of other crap by people who obviously lost their Hammer at a very early age. Unlike me. But somehow, that night, the Magic of Hammer reached out through my radio, across the Jon Mayer and the Creed, stretching across the airwaves to gently nudge all vehicular traffic into turn lanes and tap each stoplight to green as I approached - singing, naturally. A hymn to Hammer.
Yo, Hammer! Let me bust the funky lyrics! Cuz, you know... That's what I DO.
I didn't have to stop once through all of Tucson's ginormous thriving downtown.
Not even at the frontage road where there's often a homeless guy who God-blessed me for a banana once -- even though I'm pretty sure I didn't deserve it, considering how many times I've rolled up the window as the light goes red at that very intersection. Maybe it was just homeless code for "Not another frickin' banana. Jesus Christ, I'm gettin' scurvy over here." It doesn't matter. The Hammer was with me, so I didn't have to stop and face my shame this time, yo. Thanks, Hammer!
And not even - oops! Through Tucson's magnificently humongous and vibrant downtown! I must've blinked.
But I never stopped singing.
Break it down.
*In a related note, on Wednesday night, I also dreamed that I knew a recipe that would let people fly. It included a banana. A byproduct of guilt, you say? Maybe you should stop rolling up your windows at stoplights down by the freeway and give folks a break, you say? Like maybe some actual money or a smile instead of a piece of fruit you don't particularly care for anyway? Aww, get outta here, homeboy - you know you can't touch this!