I’m in love with the girl who records the upcoming events message at the Fox Theatre. I just called to find out if there’s really a Panderers’ reunion show coming up there, and I got to listen to her talking about all the bands coming up for the next few weeks. It was the best two-and-a-half-minute conversation I've had for a while. And I didn't even say anything.
Part of what I like is that she’s a little unsure of herself. A lot of times she mispronounces the band names, and then she laughs whenever she realizes she's doing it. I just heard her say the word “guru” three times in a row, and it has to be one of the most endearing things I've ever heard. Plus, I now have a new fondness for that word.
As if that’s not enough, she has the info on the shows. All I could ever need to know. Plus, she always sounds kind of apologetic about the shows that are 21 and up. Like, I'm really sorry you guys who're younger. It'll be a cool show, and if it were up to me, I'd let you in. See? She cares.
But then the message timed out. I never did get past the next month, so I still don't know what the deal is with the Panderers. But I don't blame her. It sounded to me like she was ready to read the whole bloody list, every single booking from now until Doomsday. But the recorder just couldn’t keep up. She's too much woman for it.
I wonder how I would go about tracking her down? Not really, but how would you ever find some random, wonderful voice like that? I could leave a message, I guess. That's how we'd always meet. I'd call the box office, and then she'd call me back in the middle of the day. Then I’d leave another message for her. Recording responding to recording.
We’d probably never meet in person. Maybe we'd arrange a time to get together for coffee. But by coincidence she’d be at the back of the coffeehouse dialing my number to let me know she'd just gotten there. And I'd arrive and look for her, but I wouldn't see anybody who looked like she was waiting for someone. Especially that girl back there who's ignoring the "no cell phones" sign and probably gabbing with her rock-star boyfriend, I'd think.
I'd go outside to call. Since she'd be on the phone, though, I'd go straight to voicemail, as would she. A freak of bad timing, but that's how star-crossed we'd be. In the end, we’d both give up in disgust and go meet people in the real world. There’s our whole relationship right there. I could show you pictures if we’d ever taken any.