It was one of those warm spring nights in Sun Valley when the sun sets late and the stars fill up the blue sky which is framed by the dark grey outlines of mountains on every side. We were tired from a day of hiking in the back hills, meandering through country streams and sitting amongst wildflowers. It was one of those perfectly wonderful exhausting days that can only happen on vacation.
The condo was quiet, just the two of us this time, and most of the nearby owners didn’t make it into Sun Valley at this time of year. We kinda had all of Warm Springs to ourselves. That’s a really relaxing feeling, especially when the runs are all a soft green and the sun keeps the whole valley a perfect 78 degrees all day long. Ah, my paradise.
That’s why I never expected it! I never even considered that on this peaceful night in my favorite place on earth, something would happen which would leave me altered forever. Something unthinkable.
We had just gone to bed when one of the neighbors in an adjoining condo came into town. They’d been renovating that particular unit and from the sounds it appeared that the owner came with the goal of doing some organizing. Still, not a problem right, these places were built well, a little noise wasn’t a big deal.
My husband slept peacefully as I lay, remembering our day and trying to drift off to sleep. That’s when it all began.
First she was singing Walkin’ After Midnight, and I hummed along, very familiar with the tune. In fact, after a few more songs played I could tell that this was my favorite Patsy Cline CD, which played loudly through the condo wall. I enjoyed listening to the CD as the neighbor worked and thumped next door. I was having a hard time falling asleep, so it was almost fun to hear all the songs that I knew by heart and be able to sing along in my head.
Little did I know at that moment, but from that night on, Patsy Cline would cause me to go into convulsions and fits of horror upon the slightest hearing.
The CD didn’t just play through once. It played through another time, and another, and another. In fact, it played through so many times that night that I lost count. Especially when the neighbor himself got a bit tired of hearing some of the songs and started skipping them after a few lines had been sung. This continued until they were down to a play list of about four songs. But it didn’t stop there! No, of course not… it wouldn’t have been my life if it had stopped there!
By this time we were well into the wee hours of the morn. I stared at the ceiling and wondered how my husband could have possibly slept through this all night long. I mean seriously, if I had turned the TV on he would have awakened, but this? Nothing? Not even stirring.
Now, there’s a part of you whom, in situations like this, wants to wake up the person sleeping peacefully and ask them how they can sleep through it. You want to complain, you want to be justified and evidence of your pain to be documented. But I refrained. We were newly married, what can I say, I thought it was the nice thing to do.
But I’ve lived to regret that decision.
Not only do I have Patsy syndrome that leaves me suffering from convulsions whenever I hear any of the 12 songs on that CD, but NO ONE BELIEVES me! No, it couldn’t have been that loud, or he would have heard it. It couldn’t have gone on that long. It couldn’t have been stuck on repeat and then the skipping and skipping and repeating… EEEEEKKKKK
Excuse me while I take a moment and stick my head under the faucet.
So, once we were down to four songs, with only a few chords of those in between playing before they were skipped, apparently the remaining four started to get old as well. But this time they would let them get about half way through and then skip, let another play, skip another half, skip the next half, let the first one play through… rotating and alternating all these fragments of four songs. It went on so long that I’m sure no sober or sane person could have handled it. I’m assuming they were not one of those things. I, unfortunately was both. Well, when I started I was both and by the end I was still sober, as for the sanity, it’s disputable. I mean, is it normal to start shaking at the sound of Patsy’s voice? Is it normal to have a violent fear of Walkin’ After Midnight? Is it normal to scream at the sight of a CD?
Our stay at the condo was almost over the night of the Patsy incident, and the remaining nights were quiet and uneventful. But to this day I am left with the scars of Patsy.
Every time I lay down in that king bed, where I should feel relaxed and taken away from it all, I have this slight panic attack instead. I can’t even go to Sun Valley without the memory springing back to life, in full living audio. I’m laughed at and ridiculed for a night that no one seems to remember, but me. A night where I was stuck in some time warped sound tunnel of Patsy Cline doom.
One night. One CD. One artist. One town.
No, it’s not a tour…
Isn’t it amazing how one experience can alter you forever?
That’s my Patsy Moment.
Do you have a Patsy moment, when your view on something changed forever, and not for better? I’d love to hear about it!