The Armaments:

1 Sony TMC-48 Cassette Recorder

3 Pairs of deep-pocketed pants

2 Fresh AA Energizer Batteries

1 Encouraging pat on the back from my were-editor in the face of certain embarrassment

The Mission:

Monday, 10/16/00, 1500 hrs. I made all preparations for my first grand entrance. I cued up the tape. I pushed play. I felt the groove. I walked through the door. And Maurice Robinson said, "What the hell is that noise?"

I was to hear a lot of that over the next 11 days. "What the hell is that noise?" was far and away the most common initial response my theme music elicited.

"That's my theme music," I explained.

Numerous problems were rapidly gritting up our well-oiled scheme. To start with, while I was describing the sound as "music," those around me would only identify it as "noise." I must concede that, as red hot and jammin' as my music was, it didn't sound too stirring blaring out of a hand-held recorder turned up to 10. A trebly, scratchy choir rasped exuberantly of my glory through my muffling, big-pocket pants. I was having a hard time inspiring awe.

Secondly, I discovered that I am not the only one who makes entrances into a room. Other people repeatedly and obtusely made their own entrances- frequently at grossly inappropriate points in my soundtrack- utterly dispelling my dramatic mood. Grrr! Not only that, they would repeat questions whose answers had already been established such as, "What the hell is that annoying noise!?"

"That's, uh, that's my theme music!"

"Where's it coming from?"

"Around..."

Which brings up problem number three. Ideally my theme music would have come from all around, filling the air wherever I went. Now that really would have been an amazing effect. Instead, it came from my pants.

"Is that coming from your pants?"

"No. Not my pants. It's..."

"Yes it is! That's you, man! That's your damn pants!"

"It's my, um, it's my... Yes."

At this point, reactions varied only in terms of etiquette. If I was in a room full of casual acquaintances or relative strangers, the reaction was, "Could you please turn that off? As soon as possible?" If I was with friends, the reaction was, "Nate! For f***'s sake, turn that s*** off NOW! Bleeding Christ-on-a-bike, enough is enough!"

I met with Luis on the 11th day to report these difficulties.