by Lea Sellas
Ever pulled up to a stoplight, looked to the side and just had to laugh as the driver next to you is belting out a song?
That driver is me.
I used to take to the backroads when I felt the urge to sing. And often, I'd use the cover of darkness to hide my secret habit.
But forget that. I have no shame anymore. No longer do I just hum a little when I'm aware of an audience, nor do I pretend to be talking on my cell phone. I'll tear up Aretha's "Natural Woman" in broad daylight. If Kelly Clarkson's "Miss Independent" comes on the radio, I'm to the point where singing along is involuntary.
Better yet, I even burn CDs strictly for the purpose of having them to sing along with. Sometimes I think about which ones I'd use on my own American Idol audition (so far, I've narrowed it down to Mariah Carey's "Hero" or maybe even Liza's show-stopping hit, "Cabaret," but I don't know how well Simon, Randy and Paula would fit in my backseat).
And I'm not going to lie to you: I'm good. Of course I have no one else to substantiate that claim, but sometimes you just know. So look out, Mariah and Whitney. You too, Celine. With the massive amount of driving I've done in the past few months, I'm sure I've far surpassed your time in the studio or on stage.
I do have to watch myself, though. I've noticed I tend to accelerate a bit more than I should when I'm aiming for those upper-register notes. I don't know how well, "You don't understand, officer, I was just trying to hit the big 'freeeee' in the 'Star-Spangled Banner'" would fly to get me out of a 90-in-a-65 ticket.
Regardless, be sure to look for me on VH1's next installment of Divas Live. Or maybe just look to your left the next time you're stopped in the car.