I'm not gonna lie, I kind of miss my Walkman. No, not even my Discman - that stupid fucker would always skip, and I would have to handle CDs with the utmost of care on my travels, lest they be scratched (they always got scratched, even if I enveloped them in the King's finest silks). No, I miss my tapes and the fuzziness that I'd hear through my plastic, unbendable headphones before the music started, when the tape was just playing. Maybe it wasn't my parents, but the Walkman that truly taught me discipline; if I wanted to listen to a specific song, I just had to wait for it, because it was impossible to tell where exactly on the tape it was. The Walkman gave me patience. And phat Salt N Pepa beats.
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