Look, I was excited, all right? It may not seem like anything to scream about to you, but let's remember please that in all the forty plus years since "We Will Rock You" came out, it's been on the lips of every sports enthusiast and the hearts of every competitive spirit, and the beat belongs to that song and that song only. And I was there. And so was Freddie. And so was John. And so were Mr. Clogs and Sneakers Guy- I mean, Brian and Roger (old habits die hard). And this is a story only I and fifteen other people can share.

When they finally let us go, I did a quick search through the control room. Of course, I came away empty-handed. Under any other circumstances I would have been terrified. But We Will Rock You weathered that storm and then some. I needed to get out of there, let off some steam.

I picked up my things and started out. Freddie caught me by the door, asked me if I wanted to stay and watch while he recorded the vocals.

In my heart I shouted "YES YES YES!" But I shook my head, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from spazzing. Remember. Be impressed, but no wild fanatic outbursts. Save it for later. "Thank you, though. When can I expect you home?"

"Oh, not for another four hours or so. So that gives you plenty of time to go crazy."

"I don't get crazy."

"Uh-huh," he said, none-too-convinced. "So you don't dance and you don't get crazy and God frowns when you don't go to church. Right. Anything else?"

"Yes. I have to go. I'll see you in a few hours." This time I was the one delivering the hug- a quick one, not too tight, but a hug all the same.

"What? No goodbye kiss for me?" Roger said, crossing his arms.

I rolled my eyes. "Here," I replied, and blew him a kiss. I knew that wasn't what he meant, but the stunned, I-must-be-losing-my-touch look on his face was well worth it. "Goodbye, John!"

"Bye," he called back. Sweet, sweet man.

I didn't say anything to Brian. I don't think he even noticed I'd left.

I hurried out for a cab, my feet barely touching the ground. By the time I'd come back to Freddie's flat, I was higher than the afternoon clouds. I ran inside and locked the door.

Silence. Oscar padded over and greeted me. Tiff gave me a cordial nod. Tom slept.

And I exploded.

"DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?" I shouted. "DID THAT JUST SERIOUSLY HAPPEN? OH MY GOD!" My voice rang against the walls, as if answering me that yes, that just happened.

I scooped Oscar up off the floor and didn't even sneeze. The adrenaline pumped too hard to accommodate my allergies today. I danced about the living room and into the kitchen. I'd never felt so absolutely high in my life.

I fixed myself a sandwich, gulped it down and called it an early dinner. I kept screaming at random intervals. I'm sure the neighbors were listening in, wondering what the heck a girl with Tourrette's was doing in Freddie's apartment.

Even Oscar seemed to ask, "Are you all right, Eve? Do I need to call somebody?"

Usually, after such a trip, I'd come down in a matter of minutes, but I only seemed to rise higher, like some overachieving hot air balloon. Some of it I believe was plain old anxiety; I hadn't forgotten I was trapped, perhaps with no way home. But mostly, of course, it was the fact that I was living every Queen fan's fantasy- and with the two slamming together, it was almost more than I could handle. I needed to release some of this energy. And fast. I was about to pop.

I sped to Freddie's record collection. I flipped through each one. While they were mostly all good albums (if you can excuse the Bad Company and Cabaret soundtrack), none of them were powerful enough to suit my purposes.

"Where's some good old 80's and 90's techno when you need it?" I cried. "Drums, man! Drums!"

All you millenials or Gen Y's or Gen Z's or whatever like me out there, who think you belong in the seventies because you were born too late and if only you could have been there when they were around and who needs the Internet and yadda yadda yadda, make no mistake. We are millenials. We can be nothing else. And we millenials love our iTunes and our workout mixes and our playlists from all decades. And right that moment I wanted some 90's goodness.

I recalled my phone. My smart phone, not the Relic. There were 90's dance tunes in my playlist. But Androids have little volume capacity by themselves, as we all know. Trying to get funky with a bare-bones Android speaker is like trying to get a suntan on an overcast day. I was in a sub-woofer mood. And this wasn't a sub-woofer era.

My eyes drifted to the staircase and alighted on the intercom. I grinned. Oh. Yes.

I rummaged through my backpack and drew out my smart phone. I turned the thing on and praised God that I still had half the battery juice left (I've never been very good at keeping up with my charger, but I actually brought it with me this time; I resolved to charge it that night). Quickly I hurried to the wall. There was a small shelf just underneath the microphone; it was as though they'd designed it just for me.

Leaning the phone against the mike, I tapped to my Music folder and found my 90's Playlist. I hit Shuffle and crossed my fingers.

The little progress bar started moving, but no sound was coming out. I had the thing on Mute! What a drag. I stopped the music again, turned the sound up full blast. And then, before it slipped my mind, I turned on every speaker in the flat, and set the volume dial as high as it would go.

I was about to become the bane of Freddie's neighbors' existences. I could be jeopardizing future musicians. I didn't care. I had a hunger to satisfy.

I pressed Play.

And the best, worst, most wonderful, most terrible song that could have played, burst around me. It started with "M-A-C-A," ended with "E-N-A," and had an "R" somewhere in the middle.

No I'm not kidding. It was the Macarena. I love that stupid song, always have. A clave Latin rhythm, electronic dance vibes, attitude. Just what I needed- and it's probably the one song I can dance to without utterly humiliating myself. But right then I wasn't even worried about that.

I whooped and started dancing around like I'd never danced before, swinging my hips and waving my arms. I would never dance this way in public- and stone cold sober. But there was no one around to watch me except the cats. And cats don't care. I felt free. I refused to think about the Relic, and chose to revel for the next four minutes in sweet, unchained denial.

"He was out of town," I lipsynced, widening my eyes, "and his two friends were soooo fine!"

Picture this, and see if it isn't the image of release: some barefoot college girl in khakis and a seventies' halter top blowing off steam by doing some wild, bohemian dance moves that bordered on suggestive. With the Macarena at full blast. All alone in Freddie Mercury's apartment.

Or so I thought.

"Hey, Macarena!" I shouted, louder every time. I reclined myself as alluringly as I could, tossed my head and lay back like I was inviting someone to ravage me right there on the carpet. Then I leapt back to my feet, sashayed over toward the piano and leaned up against it. I pretended the object of my seduction was sitting on the bench. I moved my hand in the air, as if stroking his imaginary face.

"I am not trying to seduce you," I purred to nobody.

I raced up the stairs, and realized I'd actually never slid down a banister before. The music emboldened me. I straddled the railing and let myself go. Toward the bottom, I did fall off, but I landed gracefully, much to my surprise. I hopped back to my feet, whirled past Freddie and shimmied on over to-

Wait a minute.

I turned around. My jaw dropped and my eyes were ready to escape their sockets. I don't know long he'd been watching me. From the way he was smiling, I'd say long enough.

The two of us just stood there a second. I should have scurried out of sight, curled up in a corner, and died. But I didn't. Instead, I kept up the act.

"Come join me, dance with me," I sang, throwing myself around no less than before.

I danced toward him while he laughed out loud and tried to copy my movements. I know I probably looked ridiculous, but Freddie wasn't much better. He did a few of his stage moves, strutted around me, finally put his arms around my waist from behind and we swayed in sync to the music. It wasn't exactly Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, but you couldn't find two more blissful people than Freddie and I, dancing out of step but still together.

"I thought you didn't dance," he said as we moved back and forth.

"What?"

He tried again, shouting over the music, "I said, I thought you didn't dance!"

"I don't, usually."

Freddie smirked. "Oh, darling, you're so full of shit."

"Hey! Besides, I didn't say I didn't, I said I can't!"

"Then what are we doing right now? Knitting?"

"It's called a catharsis, Freddie. My soul was in need."

He rolled his eyes and huffed. "Leave it to you to make something cerebral out of this."

"And let's hear from you! What are you doing back so soon?"

"Why, I missed you. I can't keep away from you, of course."

"The Crap is strong with you, my friend. You said you weren't coming home for a few hours!"

"Did I? Well, you said you don't get crazy. Yet I've just caught you with your hand in the biscuit tin. Let's call it even. And what is this song? Is that Spanish?"

"Something you've never heard before," I said vaguely, and I added to myself, and probably never will again.

For the first time in four days, it occurred to me. My bubble popped, and I plunged back to Earth. I was dancing with a dead man.

I stopped moving, my body going stiff. Freddie felt the change. "What's wrong, dear?"

It was then that the Macarena ended, and a different, earlier 90's song began to play. Conga drums echoed from the walls. I went pale and broke away from Freddie. I bounded up the stairs two steps at a time, switched off the speakers, yanked my phone away from the mike, shut it off before the voice shattered Time as I knew it, as well as Freddie's good spirit.

"What's gotten into you, Eve?" he said, following me.

"Nothing, nothing." I hid my Android behind my back. Is it too late to hide behind the Three Commandments? I asked myself.

He cocked his head. "What have you got there?"

"Nothing."

"Is that where the music was coming from?"

"No."

"Rubbish! Let me see."

I shook my head. "My magic mirror is for me and me alone." Magic mirror? Oh, dang. Now he'll never let up about it!

"Magic mirror? You don't say! Let's show it who's fairest, yeah?" He put out his hand.

Freddie's phone rang. I closed my eyes in relief.

He growled in his throat. "Ugh. That'll be the boys. I said I was stepping out, just didn't say how far out. I'm on my way!" He shouted at the phone.

"I'm sure they heard you," I said dryly.

"As for you," Freddie turned to me, drawing himself up formidably. I thought for a moment he was going to force the Android from my hands. But he did the exact opposite. He leaned forward and kissed my cheek.

"You're awfully cute, my dear- especially when you think you're invisible," he said. "We must dance that dance again some time. What's it called?"

I blinked, and mixed my words up. I wasn't expecting the kiss. "'S called, um, the Mercurena."

"Mercurena? Oh, I like that. Like it was meant for me."

"Well actually, I meant- okay. Yeah. Sure. Now, be off with you. Don't keep the boys waiting."

He didn't. With a little wink, he spread his legs across the banister and slid down. Just before he walked out, he called, "Thanks a lot, Eve. I'm going to have the Mercurena stuck in my head all night."

"Don't mention it," I said. "Bye-bye."

When the door closed, I put the Android underneath my bureau. Didn't that just figure. Now while I searched and prayed for one phone to appear, I had to hide the other.

Later I added to the journal:

Day 4 (cont.): I provided percussion on We Will Rock You, and danced the Macarena with Freddie. He calls it the Mercurena. So cute.

I looked at that last line, almost erased it, but I kept it. Just a mild expression of opinion, right? Still, I took a decidedly more clinical approach in the next section:

N.F.O.s: Becoming progressively more tactile. I must be on my guard. Also need to keep the Android out of his reach. He knows about it now, and he's got a boundless curiosity. If I'm not careful, he'll find it. I don't know what all I've got on there, but right now it's things he doesn't need to know about. I'll decide later if that should change.