I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you, I was dancing in my head

I often have to take the tube or a bus somewhere, whether it's for errands or Dr. appointments, there is a bit of traveling to do, which is extremely fun, but... you know you just sit there. I can't really read, b/c I get motionsick, and up until this morning, I had kept forgetting to charge my iPod. But today, I had to run off to London Bridge and remembered the night before so my iPod was all ready for the adventure. I pulled off the Londoner look pretty well, with the earbuds looped through my scarf knot, so if I had to pop them out for a brief interaction, they'd just hang and not fall to the ground. I need to be honest, those ear buds completely changed my tube experience. I felt very isolated and shut off from my environment. All the sounds - announcements, the gate beeps, doors opening and shutting, the mumbles of my fellow passengers were muffled. My alertness to my surroundings was shrouded by a cover of music. In the beginning, I was a little bit edgy, for someone could be addressing me from the side or behind and I wouldn't know it. But standing on the tube, I found that by being isolated by sound, I felt more freedom to observe through sight. My brain somehow interpreted this idea of "if I can't hear them, then they can't see me" and I felt more boldness to look at people directly and study their faces. What do other people think of on the tube? What is their purpose on the Jubilee Line?
And then, Hey Ya from Outkast came on and it took every ounce of my self-restraint not to bust out in dance moves or to lip sync along. Seriously, how can you not shake it like a Polaroid picture when he asks you so nicely? I noticed then, exiting the train and walking down the long connecting corridors that I had a slight beat to my step as Never There from Cake filled my ears. As I was walking out of the station and down the street, I developed a strut inspired by the tune of Dancing Queen from Abba. And nothing beats ascending or descending an escalator with Ordinary from Late Tuesday. So my journey developed a soundtrack, and my spirit could not be contained.