I had just spent the evening trying to learn how to play a song on the ukulele. My friend, who I was with, already knew it, and had to watch patiently as my clumsy fingertips tried to find the right strings to press.
The song is called "Les Champs-Élysées." It's a French song (if you couldn't tell) about someone's experience on the street with the same name in Paris. They walk happily along, meet a stranger, and end up jamming out all night with them and a band of random guitar-players. It's a fun song.
So, with my Christmas-gifted uke, I was trying to learn the tune, too.
The best part came when the night had dwindled away and we were about to get ready for bed. My friend suddenly suggested that we should go upstairs in our apartment complex to sing the song for our other friend. I agreed excitedly and, still carrying a mason jar of water, went upstairs.
We knocked and her roommate answered. We didn't disclose our plan, but asked her to get our friend and pulled the door to a mysterious mostly-shut position. When she appeared, we began! ...Aaaaand then the tempo was too fast, so we began again!
She played, I sang, she joined in on the chorus, and our friend's roommate recorded the whole thing on her phone. After the last note, we bowed to the roommates' claps and left to our respective apartments.
It was a good night.
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