Some of you may be familiar with a situation like this: the song Halelujiah by Leonard Cohen comes on in the car. It may be uncomfortably suggestive of something inanely profound. It may not be. Either way, something must be done to recognize the amount of introspection expected of one during those five awkward minutes. Here are a few things you can do in an emergency.
Rule 1: be alone.
Stands to reason. The only problem with introspection is when you’re expected to do it in front of other people. There are other problems, but this is the most immediate one. If you can’t pretend your eyes are getting all distant and Chad Michael Murray of your own volition, you’re pretty fucked. For the next five minutes, and in general.

Rule 2: don’t leave the car.
This leaves your fellow passenger alone with the radio. You may reenter to David playing the secret God-loving chord. Furthermore, they will watch you approach and enter the vehicle with the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift. When you realize you have made this mistake, they will probably be in bullshit tears already.

Rule 3: don’t listen to the radio.
Although modern American top 40 stations are generally shitty enough for you to never worry about anybody ever playing anything by Leonard Cohen ever, ever, rest assured that when those rare exceptions to your infallible judgment occur they will be quasi-Biblical, about women and in somewhat broken English sometimes. (Every breath we drew was Halelujiah: article placement fail.) CDs are a good bet. iPods, less so: a friend could ask to put theirs in your radio adapter (to which you’re supposed to say- what- no? What kind of friend are you?) and then pick the song in question off a playlist and proceed to talk about “nostalgia.”

Rule 4: don’t watch movies with people.
Especially American movies, such as Shrek and Watchmen. It’s not expected of you to socialize and movie-watch at the same time, but this is a list for all contingencies, so just in case a first time director needs something ruminative for the three minutes preceding the star crossed lovers’ inevitable reconciliation, stick to what you know.

Rule 5: don’t change the music.

Should be a given. This opens up a line of inquiry which you probably will be uncomfortable with, such as, “What don’t you like about thinking about yourself?” or, “Do you think you’re too good for the modern standards of contemplative silence or something?” Sweating it out, I promise you, is better than jumping ship this one time.

If following these rules doesn’t keep you out of trouble with this song, don’t panic. In the moment, it may seem like it lasts a whole modern era, but this is not so. Just focus on saying as few words as you possibly can. It helps to look at the clock that ticks down how long the song has left to live on your car speakers. Here are some last minute contingencies which have worked well for me in the past:

-Prepare notecards in your glove compartment which read, “I am too deeply locked in the throes of tempestuous introspection to say things to you right now.” After the song is done, pretend it never happened.

-Make it your rule to never talk in your car. That way, these five minutes won’t be at all different from the others.

-Observe the weather. They will get the drift.

-Make an abrupt and needless stop to use the bathroom or get food. This is also useful in treating depression, insomnia and various drug side effects.

-Keep, at all times, a soft drink large enough that it would take at least five minutes of uninterrupted drinking to finish. Works well with the previous suggestion.

-Set your cell phone to send a text message reading: “NEED HELP. COHEN.” to a trusted friend at the discreet push of a button on its side. Within seconds, your friend will call you and you will be engaged in a polite conversation far away from your personal life and all your failures.

Good luck!