The Problem With The Pina Colada Song
Recently, I was informed that my doctor’s office has this cool portal thing where I can go on, view my chart and medical history, and even shoot an email directly to my doctor, if need be. It’s a pretty sweet set-up, I think. The other day, I clicked around in my chart, reading my various medical issues (my children are listed as the majority of my “issues,” ha!), and other random information.
There was one small section for “Other Notes” that said:
Spouse: Clint, Children: 4, Occupation: Freelance writer, Hobbies and Interests: Likes writing.
I thought it was kind of cool that info was in there, but it seemed so… blah.
“I think you should add, ‘Likes Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain’ to my chart,” I informed my doctor.
And because of that, I had The Pina Colada Song stuck in my head for the rest of the day. You know the one, right? I guess the real title is Escape. Anyway, the more I sang it, the more I realized how friggin’ messed UP that song is. Have you ever thought about it?
Well, you’re about to.
So, this dude is in bed while his “old lady” who he was “tired of” sleeps beside him (his words, not mine). He’s flipping through a newspaper and comes to an interesting classified ad where this chick has listed her likes:
- Pina Coladas
- Half-brained Men
- Champagne (uh, lush much? Champagne and Pina Coladas? Sheesh, lady.)
- Getting it on in the dunes of the Cape (apparently she enjoys finding sand in every crevice for days afterward. Souvenir!)
She also lists her dislikes:
- Yoga (too busy drinking and getting it on with idiots, I s’pose)
He’s intrigued, so he writes his response to the classified saying that he likes that stuff, too (Sex? I like sex… we’re a perfect match, lady!) and that he has to meet her “tomorrow noon… at a bar called O’Malley’s.” Apparently he does have more than half a brain, because he well understands that this lady loves her drink, so meeting at a bar at noon is probably not that weird to her.
Okay, so “tomorrow noon” comes around (which couldn’t have actually been “tomorrow” because this was in newspaper time, so we’re talking a few days, here… which means that they’re both walking around with this secret classified ad love affair going on in their heads for several days) and he sits at the bar waiting for her.
She walks in, and he knows in an instant who she is: His own “lovely lady.”
Now, she isn’t his “old lady” she’s his “lovely lady.”
So anyway, they smile and their love is rekindled because they didn’t realize that the other person enjoyed these things.
Does anyone else see how messed up that is?
She put out a classified to find a new love without communicating with him that she was unhappy in their relationship. Then he, in turn, perused and answered a classified ad because he, too, was miserable.
I’d be pissed if I was the dude… and then I’d be pissed if I was the chick.
There’s no way that relationship lasted.
Well, maybe their spark lasted through that midnight sex in the dunes of the Cape, but after they realized how horrible that whole sand up the crack feeling is (I’m sorry, but no amount of getting caught in the rain can wash sand out of those spots), my guess is that they ended it.
And yet, that damn song will not get out of my head. All the way from its original release in 1979 (3 years before my birth), it echoes in my ears. Someone get it out!