The Search for Margaritaville
“Kenny! Hey Kenny!”
“Heya Jim, what’s the word?”
“Aw, I saw ya just sittin there — nibblin’ on some sponge cake. Wasn’t sure if you were comin’ or goin. Figured I’d check-in?”
“Right, right, well have a seat then? I’m just here watchin’ the sun bake. It’s a shame really, all those tourists covered with oil. They’ll fry ya know?”
“Ha! Not much we can do I suppose. Say — how bout strumming that old six string?”
“Shoot. I left it on my front porch swing. Damn things been swaying in the wind all night. Hope we don’t get hit with a passing squall.”
“Maybe we could offer them some brunch? You smell those shrimp?! Heck we better check — they’re beginning to boil!”
“You go on now, Kenny. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
“Whatcha mean? Say — you look a bit blue. What’s goin’ on my friend?”
“Well, you see, I’ve been dreaming ‘bout this place. This tropical, magical, place. An island that apparently doesn’t exist on any map! I’ve searched far and wide. Picked the brain of every sailor and privateer south of the Antilles and they’re all sayin’ the same thing. Scoffing and rolling their eyes. It’s a bit, well, embarrassing really.”
“What they sayin’ bout you Jimmy? Surely it can’t be that bad.”
“Aw shucks, Ken. You’ll bring me to tears, mate. But they keep sayin’ I’m wasting away. Wasting away AGAIN in this washed-up port called Margaritaville.”
“Margaritaville! Hey! I’ve heard of that place!”
“You have? Really?!”
“Yeah! I was out on a search. Seems I lost my shaker of salt on a fishing trip, so I went lookin’ for it. Some people thought I was running away from something. Maybe there was a woman to blame? Lots of rumors circled ‘round town. But honestly, it’s nobody’s fault.”
“So you know where it is! Aha! Terrific! I can’t give you a reason, I stayed here all season — had I’d known you’ve heard of it! I’d have much more to show for my search than this brand-new tattoo.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Jim. It’s a real beauty! Say — is that a Mexican pinup? She’s a real cutie.”
“No, no. It's meant to be a landscape of Puerto Rico! How it turned out so bad, I haven’t a clue?”
“Forgive me, Jim. But maybe it’s because you’ve been wastin’ away again. Wastin’ away searching for Margaritaville?”
“Ouch Ken, that hurts. That really hurts. Shouldn’t you be searching for your lost shaker of salt? Or IS there a woman to blame like everyone’s been sayin’?
“Watch it, Jim! I’m trying to help you mate! But now that you got me thinkin’, shucks, it could be my fault…”
“Leave it. Not doin’ us any good now anyway. Say…you think you could help me set a heading? Walk with me. I’ve got some nautical charts in the house.”
“Ouch! Ah shoot. I just blew out my flip flop. Musta stepped on a pop top!”
“Looks like you cut your heel up pretty bad. We might want to cruise back home on the island uber? It’s not all that fast, but it sure is reliable!”
“Ah..got it. The donkey’s the uber…well Jim, I hope there’s booze in the blender. Cause’ I’ll need it to render that frozen concoction that helps us BOTH hang on.”
“But Ken — we can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Wastin’ away again.”
“We aren’t Jim. We’re searching remember? Searching for Margaritaville.”
“I don’t know Ken. Between your lost shaker of salt, and every privateer telling me it doesn’t exist! Maybe we should just call it off…set our sights on something more, well, real?”
“Let me tell you something, Jimmy. Something people claim that some woman promised me. But I know…I know it’s my own damn fault for not believing it.”
“Yeah? Go on — I know what some people claim, but here’s your chance buddy! What is it? I won’t judge you. It can’t be your own damn fault! What is it?!”
“This Margaritaville you’ve been searching for…you can’t find it on any map.”
“I know that, Ken. I know! That’s what everyone’s been sayin’!”
“It’s not on any map because…”
“Because what?! Why?!”
“Because — it’s an island of the mind.”
