The Whistler cross the Alleyway

In the early days of living in my new apartment, to which I moved seven months ago, I would often whistle in the bathroom, either while showering or completing some personal business transaction with the porcelain shrine.  My bathroom window faces towards another building across an alleyway, but no one can really see into it.  One day, I was whistling some classical piece, when I heard in response someone whistling from the building across the alley.  I stopped whistling, and they stopped whistling.  Then I started whistling again, and they started whistling again.

I didn’t think much of it at the time until the following week while showering, I was whistling Beatles’ “Yellow Submarine,” when I heard, from across the alley, the whistler join me.

Then she broke out in song:
“WE ALL LIVE IN A YELLOW SUBMARINE!  YELLOW SUBMARINE!  YELLOW SUBMARINE!”

Up to this point, I had only ever heard her whistle.  Her voice suddenly added a depth and a character, and it touched me that she would trust me with this voice – a private and personal element we don’t often like sharing with anonymous strangers.  So, not to leave her hanging, I joined her, altogether now:
“WE ALL LIVE IN A YELLOW SUBMARINE!  YELLOW SUBMARINE!  YELLOW SUBMARINE!”

And I continued: “As we live a life of ease…”
And she continued: “…a life of ease!”
“Every one of us…”
“…every one of us!”
“Has all we need…”
“…has all we need!” …

I thought it was over after that, but the following week, I was sitting on the toilet whistling the Star Spangled Banner.  Sure enough, she started whistling with me.  And then she started singing…

“And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air…”
So I joined her: “Gave proooof through the niiiiight, that our flag was still there!!”
“OH SAY DOES THA-AT STAR SPANGLED BANNER-R YE-ET WAAAAAAA-AAAVE….  O’ER THE LAAAA AND OF THE FREEE-EEEEEEE!  AND THE HOOOME OF THE… BRAAAAAAAAVE!!!!”

Then I applauded and cheered.  She yelled, “YEAH!  AMERICA!  YEAH!”

I haven’t heard her since.  Every time I go into the bathroom and whistle, I secretly hope I’ll hear her respond, and together we would make music once more.  Because nothing says community like two anonymous neighbors singing together through two walls and an alleyway while naked or defecating.

Cherish the peculiarities in your random and fleeting connections.

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About Doctor Quack

Just another bonehead with an internet connection.
This entry was posted in Autobiography and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to The Whistler cross the Alleyway

  1. Vicky G says:

    WTF??

  2. becky hayman says:

    I think you should try to meet her. Not only does she appreciate your music, but she enjoys a similar sense of humor. Who knows? The woman of your dreams may be across the alleyway!!

  3. Peter H says:

    I agree, you’re destined for each other. Not only that, but it would be the best how-did-you-meet story when you start dating and get married.
    BTW, I like your stories and writing style a lot. I hope you keep it up!

  4. Pingback: The Relentlessness of Theme | Doctor Quack

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