It was supposed to be a lovely morning in Philadelphia. Breakfast was fantastic and thinking about a nice walk for a coffee sounded great for Islanders defenceman Brendan Witt. He was sure it would be wonderful, and walked out the door of the hotel and down the road.
He was first greeted by the door man who shook his hand, and gave a warming smile. The sun shined down and the birds were singing. Witt stopped at the corner, and greeted a few more "hello"s from passers by. He looked to the sky, then to his feet and twirled. Immediately he stared at you, reader, because you can see him, and he can see you.
"Here's a little song I wrote," he began. "You might want to sing it note for note. Don't worry… be happy!" He began walking down the road and passed three nuns, and greeted them with a handshake and continued on. "In every life we have some trouble. When you worry, you make it double. Don't worry… be happy!" A nearby construction worker walked up behind him and started snapping his fingers. "A woo oooo oooo oo." Witt looked back at him and smiled and nodded. "Don't worry," he said, and the construction worker continued. "Ooooo ooo oooo." "Be happy!" "Oooo ooo ooo".
The nuns, hearing such wonderful gospel on the street turned to follow and began to sing harmonies with him.
Witt came across an alley way and looked beside him. There, a homeless man was curled into a box, trying to sleep away another restless day. "Ain't got no place to lay your head?" he asked the man. "Somebody came and took my bed!" the homeless man replied. "Don't worry, be happy!" said Witt in return and helped him to his feet. The homeless man immediately smiled and started to follow, snapping his fingers to the beat.
Down the road a bit more, he looked up to a woman who was unable to unlock her front door. "The land lord says my rent is late," the woman told Witt. "He might have to litigate," said the construction worker. "Don't worry, be happy," chimed in Witt. The woman looked at him confused. "Look at me, I'm happy!" said Witt. "But you're a millionaire," the woman said. The nuns and the construction worker and the bum all began singing the harmonies behind Witt. "Here, I give you my phone number," said Witt, winking at her suggestively. "When you worry, you call me," he said in a reggae accent. "Why are you talking like that?" she said, pocketing his number. Witt pushed her by the face away from him, she was clearly in his personal bubble, and continued on.
Down the street, a young man was sitting on a park bench. The posse began to circle the man, and he became terrified. He held a dozen roses in his hand, and looked terribly upset. This was Witt's chance to cheer him up as well.
"Ain't got no cash?" he began. "No, I spent it all on these damn flowers, and she was banging my friend," the young man said to Witt. Witt wasn't listening, he doesn't care. He pulled on the man's collar a little and said "ain't got no style." The young man was frustrated, the last thing he wanted was to be insulted on his fashion. "What the hell is wrong with my clothes?" he asked. "Ain't got no girl to make you smile," Witt continued. "You're an ass man, we JUST broke up, go away!" "Don't worry, be happy!" Witt said, and the others chimed in with the harmonies. The young man had an epiphany. "You're right!" he said, and started to break dance with the flowers.
On the bench behind them, a woman had just lost her job that morning. Witt and the others rushed over to her. "'Cause when you worry, your face will grown." She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. She had no idea what she was going to do anymore for income. "And that will bring everybody down, so don't worry, be happy!" he lifted her chin and sang to her. She whiped away her tears and gave him a hug, before joining the nuns in harmony.
The street corner said "walk" so they began to dance and sing their way across the road. Suddenly, a gold Yukon truck decided to make an illegal turn and spun into Witt. Everyone gasped as the truck connected and smashed into Witt's body. He fell to the asphalt and layed there without movement for 2 very long seconds, felt like forever.
Witt immediately sprang to his feet, and walked to the driver's window. "The fuck man, what the fuck? How did you not see me?" The man in the truck felt awful and tried to reply. "I didn't see you, man." "What do you mean you didn't see me? I have a goddamn group of people fucking singing out here, crossing the street, how the hell didn't you see me? This is bullshit!" "I didn't see you," the driver tried to reply. "Dude, there's even nuns here, how didn't you see the nuns?" "I'm sorry," the driver replied. Witt stopped.
"Don't worry," Witt said. "Be happy!" and the rest of the posse chimed in with vocals. Witt started dancing around, singing away. Everyone who gathered to see the collision began dancing, and the man in the truck hopped out and got onto the roof of his shitty gold Yukon truck and started to do the two-step. The broken hearted man started to breakdance in the middle of the street, the nuns were chiming away, and the construction worker started grinding with the woman who lost her job.
Don't worry, be happy!
Micheal A. Aldred