Mariachi Pink Floyd

Okay, so I am at a library association meeting. A small one. The state one. They are always interesting. I talked about last year's conference here.

Many things were the same. Holiday themed clothing, sensible shoes, etc. I went to a couple of programs. Left another one. Avoided vendors. The normal stuff.

As always, food is a challenge. Southerners have a difficult time with vegetarians. Last night I went to an Italian place that looked good. I ordered the eggplant parmesan--it's always a safe choice. I got it. I began to eat and it was good. Then half way through it I saw something. Something that looked like sausage. I saw more. I handed it to a colleague and asked her to taste it. Sausage. Honestly, I didn't know what to do. I hadn't eaten meat in seven years. Seven years. Would I get sick. I actually got a little teary-eyed--I had just broken a seven year streak. I felt kind of crappy, but I never got sick.

But, the real adventure happened tonight.

I went out to eat with librarians from another university. After considering our options we went for a place that said it was the country club and that it had steaks, seafood, and Lebanese food. As we would our way through the small southern town we found a building that seemed to be in the country club, but it looked abandoned. After actually driving onto the golf course (on the little roads for the golf arts) we realized the creepy building was the restaurant. To make a very long story short, we walked in, sat down, and then left. It was dead quiet. There was one old couple dining there. There were no vegetarian options. After some consultation, it was decided we were creeped out and that my vegetarianism would be used as the excuse to leave. So we did.

We went with our second choice--a Mexican restaurant. Looking over the map, we opted for local backroads over the interstate. But then we found out the local backroads went in the right direction but didn't reach the Mexican restaurant--and we ended up on some dirt road in some backwater trailer park.

Eventually, we found the place. Ohmygoditwasanadventure. The food was good. And cheap. But the highlight was the mariachi band. This wasn't any mariachi band. This was a mariachi band that played modern music. Some song selections: Willie Nelson, KC and the Sunshine Band (Play that Funky Music White Boy), and that Superman song that was played over and over after 9/11. Now, let me add this: these guys were excellent musicians--they were really enjoying themselves and having a good time.

Then they played the If You're Happy and You Know It (Clap your hand/stomp your feet/say hooray) song to a baby (and the baby's family). The baby was fascinated. His mouth was wide open and he couldn't stop looking at these two guys. That's pretty much how I felt.

Then they came to our table. Someone requested heavy metal. They discussed. They switched guitars. And then they played Pink Floyd's Another Brick in the Wall. Another brick in the freakin' wall. Now, when they were playing to the baby I had tears streaming down my face because I was trying not to break into hysterical laughter. Then they came right up behind me and began playing Pink Floyd. And I turned five shades of red.

To most people I probably looked embarrassed, but I wasn't. I had a myriad of thoughts running through my head. This song, featured in the drug trip on film, The Wall. This song that was at one point a counterculture anthem. My guess is that David Gilmour never intended this song to be sung by a mariachi band. But the song has become a caricature of itself and it can't really be taken seriously. But here I was... I'd seen The Wall several times (who hasn't). I saw Pink Floyd in the late-80s and I remember part of it. All these thoughts were running through my head and I just couldn't take it. And then I started thinking about my friends... and if this were to happen around my friends this would be the following scene:

Michelle would turn five shades of red. Like me.
Mary would be screeching with laughter.
Lance would say, "Y'all, I can't shake my ass to this. Do they know any Duran Duran?"
Randy would be pumping his fist in the air while requesting KISS.
Gabe would be dancing and asking if they could play Journey.

There I was, bright red, trying to control myself so that I didn't fall out of my chair in a fit of laughter. But it was the end of the song that almost killed me--they actually did the falsetto "If you don't eat your meat you can't have any pudding"--in a Mexican accent. This is when I just completely lost it. And when I wished I hadn't just met most of the people at the table, because I was making a fool out of myself.

After they left us they went to the table behind us and played Stairway to Heaven.