I am standing at the podium in the center of a crowded courtroom, engaged in improvisational moral theater when my cell phone goes off. I slap my pockets to find it and silence the incongruous musical strain that has captured the attention of everyone.

"Sorry, Judge. That won't happen again."

"Mr. Bloomsday," the judge looks sternly at me. "Is your ringtone Billy Squire's Everybody Wants You?"

"Yessir." I turn and wiggle my eyebrows to the gallery.

"You are a curious fellow, sir." The judge paused in reflection. "Remember that video for Rock Me Tonight, with him traipsing around a loft apartment tearing off his Flashdance sweatsuit?"

"What a feeling, your honor."

"Keep believing, Mr. Bloomsday."