Imagine this scenario:

You woke up at the usual early morning time to head to your busy, highly political job in Washington DC. Per weekday habits, you get all of your things together and walk to the metro on the Red Line, looking around and observing the world around you as it is before the times of iPhones and Blackberries.

Your ticket gets sucked through the ticket taker and you make sure to grab it before the big gust of wind you feel sweeps it away.

Arriving on the platform, you wrap your scarf around your neck an extra time so that you don’t freeze before the train arrives. Lucky for you, you are at the end, or the beginning depending on how you look at it, of the Red Line, so you can have the seat of your choosing. You take to your usual place on the train, a seat in between the automatic closing doors, and breathe a sigh of relief, looking forward to closing your eyes for a quick snooze on the way to the city.

As soon as your eyes close, you notice that someone sits down next to you, which is inevitable on this busy metro line. But sometimes you get lucky and have at least one or two stops to yourself. You peek open one eye and notice it is a young lady with a messenger bag and headphones over her ears.

Now, please remember reader, that these are the days before fancy AirPods or high-quality inner-ear headphones. These were the Sony Walkman Stereo headphones with the fluffy soft cover that sits on top of the ears - and no, not Bose or AirPods Max.

These particular “old-school” headphones are attached to a portable CD player that is conveniently hidden in the young lady’s bag. Now, here is the deal with these headphones. Unknown to the young lady, who thought that what she could hear on her headphones only went to her ears, if she turned the volume up loud enough, anyone around her nearby would be able to enjoy what she was listening to.

The metro starts moving forward and the young lady settles into her seat, closing her eyes as well, probably relishing the extra twenty minutes she has to sleep just like you. The beauty of living in DC is you never know who you are going to sit next to.

The first few minutes of the ride are quiet and normal as usual, and then you start to hear the faint sound of an orchestra playing. You look over at the young lady sitting next to you and see that she is motioning her hands, if ever so slightly as if she were the conductor of an orchestra. Soon, the sound of the music goes through your ears and you are transported onto the Black Pearl, the ship from the most recent Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom movie.

The music is coming from the young lady’s headphones. The young lady has no idea that anyone can hear what has become her favorite music as of late. She is really into this as you watch her head move to the music, a smile forming on her face. Well, it could be worse you say to yourself. You grin, close your eyes again, and enjoy the music as you head into your busy job. Maybe I’ll get a portable CD player you think…but with better headphones of course.

If you haven’t guessed already, the young woman in this imaginary scenario is me. And this scene was not imaginary. This happened almost daily while I interned at the National Zoo in Washington DC my first year out of college. I was living with my aunt and uncle at the time near the last stop of the Red Line for the DC Metro. And just as the scenario suggests, I had absolutely no idea that anyone could hear what I was listening to on my portable CD player, the Sony Discman (car ready of course to avoid lots of skips).

I have always loved movie scores, and when Pirates of the Caribbean came out, the score quickly went to the top as one of my favorites. I would turn up the volume of the score, imagining myself conducting the orchestra that made The Pirates of the Caribbean come to life.

A few months ago, I saw someone using a pair of the old-style headphones listening to music, and as I got closer, I realized that I could hear - very clearly I might add - all of the music that the person was listening to. I was immediately taken back to my time in DC riding the metro, and realized, at that moment, that anyone sitting in my general vicinity while I was listening to my music had the opportunity to travel into the movie scores along with me. I just laughed to myself. No one ever said anything to me, but looking back, I hope that what I wrote above is what people thought. Maybe I made one or two people smile on the way to or from work.

Oh, and by the way, I still conduct my own imaginary orchestras while listening to movie scores. My favorite as of late has been Portals by Alan Silvestri from Avengers End Games. Take a listen…I’m sure at the end you will feel like a Super Hero. And if you raise your hands to conduct the orchestra - it’s okay. You’re not the only one! 🎶

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