:: She Lost Her Queen Tonight ::
Every single time I listen to 'Mr.Bojangles', my head will automatically travels in lightning speed to that particular night in a car. In a car where we all fought to not sit in that isolated seat right at the back of it. It was a night where a good friend got lost in the middle of nowhere, begging the rest of us to switch our craving of satay to her familiar indian cuisine. It was a night we were all supposed to say our goodbyes to her.

We still had our satays, anyway. We smoked our cigarettes at a coffee joint late that night. We laughed so much, but what we really talked about was what we worked on for the last few months. The bitching, the exhaustion, the thrills, the I-stick-to-you-and-you-to-me-s, the laughter. That night I was truly happy to be there.

We were in the car to go home. I didn't get to sit in that unpopular seat, fortunately. The two of them in front were fighting for the best jazz tracks of their preference. I was part of the middle two, the ones who will have to listen to anything. She was at the back, displaced physically, but I assure you she was part of the middle-s.

Finally, Mr. Bojangles blasted from the speakers. The front 2 have decided. And all of a sudden, in the merriest spirits, we all sang to it...

Mister Bojangles
Call him Mister Bojangles
Mister Bojangles come back and dance please
Come back and dance again Mr Bojangles

I don't know why, but thinking back of that whole scene makes me wanna cry. Perhaps its because I could never get it back.