Editor’s Note: This article was written July 22, 2012.
Reality show fame was nowhere on my bucket list. In fact, singing in front of my own kin during family karaoke was harder than calculus (and I suck at math).
It wasn’t till I reached my junior year in high school that I learned to harness my stage fright and just break out into song whenever the urge struck.
I used to ride the N train home and often sang out loud on my commutes, not subway performer-loud but audible enough for the patrons within a 2-seat radius to hear.
I occupied the window seat one night while my best friend, already used to my spontaneous shows, sat beside me. Today’s in-cart performance was courtesy of Celine Dion’s “Power Of Love.”
As I got up to exit the train, a man called out to me and passed me a tiny white card that read he was a music producer. “You have a great voice, definitely give me a call.”
Though the exchange was as shady as Slim, I treated that carbon-made rectangle like a record label contract.
Finally! Someone gave me the pass.