This week I made a quick trip to Costco. Quick meaning no samples, no wandering...if I can't find it, too bad for me. Ten minutes later, I was waiting in line with my cart. I heard birds singing. Happy birds in December? I looked up, nothing. Then more birds chirping merrily and me determined to catch sight of flapping wings. Nothing, dang it! The man in front of me moved forward. I followed suit with most of my attention skyward, but I caught his dofi smile (uh, dofi means missing tooth in Chamorro). I was just about to call him on getting me good because I had never heard anyone whistle like that before, but he broke out in song. My mouth dropped because we're talking a serious rendition of some unknown to me sweaty love song. He got into it with his hips and dramatic expressions. And once in a while he smiled.
I finally shook off the surprise of someone going all Glee high school musical on me. I felt the words on the tip of my tongue, "You're our very own Cinderella" (wrapped in the body of a forty-something slightly chubby man). I would have called him a girl cartoon. I'm sure of it because I'm like that, but then the checker started singing! True to form, I gaped at him. I looked around to see if this singing thing was catching. The guy who always asks you if you want a box joined in, grinning ear to ear. By the time I was at the counter all I could manage was, "Wow."
I ended up behind Mr. Cinderella. Not one person looked up for birds as he whistled his way to the exit. I saw two bouquets of roses in his cart. So maybe there was at least one happy bird in December.