My John Prine Story

So, here's my John Prine story:
When I turned forty, a couple of my buddies decided we should all go down to Key West and relive the trip we took to Florida when we were in our twenties. It was very different this time, if only because there was no foldout bed in our room with "DO NOT USE" scrawled across the mattress. We were doing things in a much more upscale way. We were celebrating another decade of getting through the getting through.
Something that was still the same was that we had one designated drinker with us, but since we were in Margaritaville proper, there were still plenty of visits to the local taverns.
At this point, I suspect that you may be wondering how all of this has anything to do with John Prine. I'm getting there. That mention of Margaritaville should bring to mind Jimmy Buffett. I will give you the next leg up which is the connection between Mister Buffett and Steve Goodman. Steve Goodman, for the uninitiated is the source of a great many songs, many of which were sung by Jimmy and enjoyed in his own right. And Steve Goodman was friends with fellow singer/songwriter John Prine.
So by now you're probably getting a sense of where this conch train is heading.
In all of the various establishments we found ourselves in, there was almost always somebody at the mic, strumming a guitar, singing songs about the islands, or the sea, or missing someone who had gone off to the islands or the sea. There are a lot of opportunities for the folks who find themselves in Key West to be A) entertained by a singer/songwriter or B) engaged in some sort of performance of songs written by themselves. Or anyone else.
Starting to get pretty interesting, huh?
Well, it was getting late when we stepped in out of the rain and into the bar of the Best Western Hotel. This was actually the second time we had landed in this spot, the first time we had been shooed out by our designated drinker. I assumed that they must have been out of those little paper umbrellas for his cocktail, and we pressed on. And just as abruptly, we were steered back, and this time we ordered our tonic and lime and whatever tropical mixture that would suit the drinker. We took a table in a mostly empty room, where I noticed a piano. I assumed that the player of that piano must be on break.
I was wrong. In another quirky twist of fate, my friends hopped up from the table and our designated drinker took his place at the keyboard. The two of them tore into a cleverly personalized version of "A Pirate Looks At Forty" just for me. A few other patrons smiled and took in the moment. I was impressed and embarrassed but extraordinarily pleased with the tribute. They finished to a round of applause that exceeded polite.
And then one of the hotel employees took up the mic, and my friend was nudged off the piano bench in favor of her own accompanist. She dedicated her next song to me, because my name had been announced as the birthday boy. The song she sang was "Angel From Montgomery." Do not ask me why this stranger had somehow become convinced that I would love nothing more than to be serenaded by a stranger on this muggy summer night in Key West. But I guess you can imagine what happened next.
We went back to our hotel.
Wait. Did I forget to mention that "Angel From Montgomery" was written by John Prine? Not my favorite John Prine song. That honor goes to "Souvenirs." But "Angel From Montgomery" is the only John Prine song I have ever had dedicated to me by a slightly tipsy hotel employee.
COVID-19 reached out and grabbed John Prine from us this past week, and I will miss him and all his music, especially that song. Mister Prine stomped on the Terra, especially the beaches of Key West. He will be missed.
Aloha, John.