(no subject)
One day during the second semester of my junior year I was in the choir room with three or four other people who hadn't gone on the annual choir trip. We started digging in the file cabinets and they pulled out three or four pieces that they had sung the year before and really liked. I hadn't been there so I didn't know any of them. This really sweet black girl pulled out Route 66 and all of us -- me, another mezzo soprano, a soprano, and a tenor -- busted out into it. "When you make that California trip... get your kicks on Route 66... doo be doo weeeee du dot!" Except me. I didn't know it, so I scatted along. We didn't have a substitute teacher. The choir room wasn't necessarily designed with acoustics in mind but it doesn't do a bad job of it either. We had the door wide open and the guidance counselor walks in and we just keep on singing. We weren't supposed to be in a classroom without a teacher, but she just smiled and left. She didn't have the heart to bother us.