Perspective

"Helicopters," performed by the Disco Biscuits, is a lengthy song. Really, really lengthy. To illustrate, I shall give you a comprehensive list of everything I did yesterday while this song was playing.

• Drove along in my car, carefree, on schedule, happy as a lark. "Helicopters" came on my radio at precisely the moment I realized I'd left a cloth bag full of Very Important Stuff at the last building I'd visited. (Yes, it was dumb of me to bring that bag into the building in the first place. It had become my multi-purpose, catch-all bag in the last week, absolutely stuffed with newspapers, magazines, blank forms for work, my writing notebook, bank statements, a prescription, and I can't even remember what else. And I'd abandoned it. Stupid. . . stupid. . . STUPID.)
• Without a second's hesitation (schedules be damned), I turned around and headed back to the building, figuring it's 25 miles from where I live, so I should try to retrieve the bag while still in the area. Well, turning around involved a couple of convoluted little side streets. Actually driving four miles back to the building meant braving a tense (or intense?) circus of heavy rush-hour traffic, stop signs galore, and eternal red lights. Let's just say I needed that bag back NOW!, I didn't want it falling into the wrong hands, and my racing heart had jumped into my throat!
• I finally reached the building, parked the car, and ran briskly up the steps to the front doors. Not to my surprise, the front doors were locked. The building was shut down and silent for the weekend. Yet, I knew it wasn't totally deserted. There had to be a couple of night janitors in there; I'd seen them arriving during my visit. I banged desperately on the doors, thinking, COME ON! Somebody please HEAR me! LET ME IN RIGHT NOW! I paced around for a frustrating minute or two, knowing nobody was going to arrive. No. . . no. . . no. . . some stranger might have found and stolen it. I felt panicked and imagined the worst. My precious bag could be gone forever.
  
• I crossed my fingers and walked around to the back of the building, being careful not to trip and sprain my weak left ankle on the grass. Well, thank goodness, this door was open! Bells rang, choirs sang! Not even believing my amazing luck, I went into the building while wracking my brains, debating whether I might have left the bag in the restroom or in the out-of-the-way room where I'd been previously. Opted for the latter.
  
• Lo and behold, a janitor was vacuuming the floor of that room, while my bag sat right where I'd left it, safe and sound. I thanked the janitor profusely, grabbed the bag, checked for all my things, and was on my merry way.
  
• I strolled in a relaxed, relieved fashion through the huge building and back to my car while hugging the bag to my chest. (Don't worry, I didn't give it exuberant "I-missed-you!" kisses. Though I'll admit the notion did cross my mind.)
  
• Started up the car, then glanced at the radio and did a double take. "Helicopters" was still playing. What's more, it showed no signs of letting up anytime soon.
• "Helicopters" dutifully endured until I was halfway back to where I'd discovered the bag was missing from my car in the first place.

Now, that's a jam band for ya.