Dwindle to Static

Now that I work in radio (work in the loosest sense of the word) I listen to it more than I already did. It's benefiting me seemingly no end. Before I started here, the classical station we produce barely came in back home on Parker. Now, it comes in crystal clear. I mostly listen at work now. It is, after all, a good policy not to bring the office home with you. Sadly, public radio can get a little mundane before 1 o'clock so I often find myself listening to WBZ 1030.

"Commercial radio."

It's like a slur around here. There's normal guys then there's "commercial guys." Commercial guys are apparently very loud, abrasive and want money more than anything. It sort of hurts when I hear people say it. They're slandering my warm wake-up call. They're demonizing my favorite non-human co-pilot. When I hear them talking this way, I usually lower my head past my cubicle walls and turn down my streamer. I know I'm wearing headphones, but what if they can still here the cheesy theme for Traffic on the 3s buzzing out of my ears.

WBZ was all I had first semester of freshman year. I didn't have a TV until December so my ancient clock radio was my real roommate. On my really low days, I'd lay in bed far after the alarm went off and just listen to the news reports until they switched anchors mid-day.

The traffic report always gets me. It makes me feel like I should be driving. No matter how horrible the traffic is on Rt. 3 or 93 north, I wish I was either in the thick of it and groaning or somewhere far off thinking "Thank goodness I'm not in that mess!" or "Man, I'm making great time."

Eventually, in this imaginary drive, I go too far north and start to lose the signal. It gets me every time. "I thought every one got 'BZ!" I'll shout at my radio. As the signal dwindles to static, I feel far from home. I sigh to myself, then scan the dial...trying to find the local NPR affiliate...