It's more than Margaritaville
I have this rule (or maybe it’s an inside joke with myself) where anytime I pass a Margaritaville I HAVE to go inside. No exceptions! It doesn't happen often because they're not exactly on every corner (there’s only 32 locations worldwide), but this past week, after running errands, I was walking to the subway to head home when I saw it. There she was in all her glory: Margaritaville. I thought, “This is my moment!!” And without hesitation, I stepped inside.
Margaritaville has become my silly little ritual! One that started out as a bit and turned into something so much bigger (and even a guided meditation!). Somewhere along the way, it stopped being just a silly goofy thing I did sometimes and became a place where I reconnect with parts of myself I don’t want to lose. It’s not really about the food (which is...fine). It’s about giving myself permission to prioritize fun, wonder, and being mindfully present, even if it feels a little silly. Well, actually, because it feels a little silly.
When I walked in this time, I was immediately confronted by someone trying to sell me a membership to their Vacation Club (which, as a known "sucker", I am proud to have quickly declined). As I beat my first boss, the sound of Jimmy Buffett and steel drums blared as if I already was on vacation. I ran victoriously towards my next boss, the host, and shouted "Table for 1 please!". The host, looking down at their phone, gestured to the bar (the place they usually put solo diners). I politely declined and asked for a table instead. I felt bad. I don’t like those moments when you realize you’re making someone have to work. But, I desperately deserved a view of their famous 2-story Statue of Liberty with coordinated music and light show every hour!!
As I sat down, I immediately scanned the drinks menu for whatever seemed new and silly. This time it was a new margarita made with Fireball cinnamon whiskey. My server, Robert, seemed surprised someone finally ordered it and told me I'd have to let them know how it was. Well, it was very sweet and a little spicy and somehow tasted exactly as I wanted it to. I told Robert, “It’s great! A symphony of flavors!”
Margaritaville has a way of taking me back to my childhood self, well, not the Fireball part, but you get what I mean. When I was a kid, I always dreamed of growing up and going to places like Margaritaville all the time. Flashy lights, oversized everything, fun music, silly names for the entrees…it all seemed like magic to me. I couldn’t wait to be an adult and go to Margaritaville as often as I wanted. But adulthood, as we all know, is not exactly as magical as you'd once expected. You figure out how the world works. And you realize the margaritas are made from mix, the food is mid, and everything is built around selling you a cliché.
But I choose to let go of the adult conditioning when I’m inside Ms. M’Ville. Instead, I make the choice to see Margaritaville through the eyes of the kid I used to be. To let go of the cynicism and critiques my adult brain tries to default to. I want to be the person who smiles in wonder when the Statue of Liberty light show kicks off, even if it’s loud and annoying. I want to be the person singing along with the table celebrating a birthday, even though I don’t know them.
I almost always go to Margaritaville alone. Not because I don’t love sharing experiences with friends (which is actually my love language), but because…well, most adults can’t stop the instinct to critique it all. The sugary drinks. The overpriced food. The tacky decor. The Vacation Club sales pitch. The Times Square chaos blasting through the windows. When I'm by myself it's a different story. I give myself the freedom to fully lean in. To order coconut shrimp that somehow tastes like sunscreen and think, Wow, this feels like vacation in my mouth!!! Not, “Ew, this tastes artificial, like sunscreen.”
And as I looked around the room that day, I noticed the kids. They were full of joy, the wonder on their faces, smiling big at every spectacle. They weren’t worried about their nachos having the perfect balance of texture or having a debate about whether or not we should have ice in water. They were living in pure joy in the moment. A part of me started to think, Why is this so easy to lose as adults? But instead of mourning the loss, I told myself, You don’t have to lose it! Not here! We're at Margaritaville!
Margaritaville, for me, is a reminder to fight for that joy. To fight for that sense of wonder. It’s far too easy to be so distracted by critique that you forget to be present. That voice still tries to creep in sometimes, even when I’m sitting there with my Fireball margarita. But Margaritaville gives me permission to hush it. To prioritize play, curiosity, and be mindfully present in the moment, just enjoying something for the sake of feeling joy.
Every time I walk through those doors, it feels silly, nonsensical, even. Margaritaville is absurd and that’s exactly why it matters. Because in a world that wants us angry, stuck, and shaped into a homogenous culture they can more easily control, these moments remind me of what they can’t take. I’m doing more than just having fun. I’m practicing joy. I’m centering wonder, curiosity, and love....all the things they don’t want us to feel. It’s my way of saying, “You don’t win.” And every time I walk out smiling, I know I’ve claimed a tiny victory.