Yellow Submarine

I was drinking alone at the bar when it played: Yellow Submarine by the Beatles. Now if this was an Applebees or a CrackerBarrel I was at I probably wouldn’t have noticed it. But I was at a pretty hip and happenin’ spot, the kind of place that usually only plays the latest pop hits. So suddenly going from Cardi B to Ringo Star was quite the shock, it even got me to tear my long gaze away from my glass of whiskey. But before I could properly show my confusion, an alt chick sitting next to me said, “really? Yellow Submarine?” I turned to her and said, “I know right!” Somehow I managed to spin the strangeness of the song into a conversation. Before long we were talkin’, we were schmoozin’, we were romancin’, and after a bit of this she asked for my number. Now I hadn’t been with anyone for a few years at that point so I got visibly giddy. I turned away to pull out my phone but when I turned back, she was gone. A large man with a big bushy beard had taken her seat and he was looking right at me with a big grin plastered on his face. Needless to say, I was a bit confused. I got up from the bar to see where the alt chick might have wandered off to and my confusion only worsened; the bar had changed. The place I had walked into was a hip joint in a brand spankin’ new building, but the place before me was a dive. The building was old and decrepit with cheap wooden tables and moldy leather booths. The walls that once had minimalist paintings now held oils of ships, anchors, and other nautical items and settings. Even the windows had changed into foggy portholes. And it wasn’t just the building that had changed, it was also the clientele. Gone were the 20 somethings and underaged college kids. In their place was a collection of gruff, tough, and burly middle aged men who were covered in American traditional tattoos. Naturally, I was flabbergasted. I opened my mouth to say, “what the fuck,” but those were not the words that came out. Instead, in a sing song voice, I said “In the town where I was born!” I immediately clasped my hands over my lips. I stood frozen in that position for a long moment before I slowly removed my hands and again tried to say, “what the fuck?” but again I blurted out, “lived a man who sailed the sea!” I tried to cover my mouth again but my limbs refused to obey me. Instead they jerked around in a jaunty jive to the tune of the song spilling out of me. I darted my eyes around the bar, begging for someone to stop whatever was happening to me. All the muscular men in the bar stared right at me and grinned as I sang. When I got to the chorus they all joined in, “we all live in a yellow submarine! A yellow submarine! A yellow submarine!” They circled all around me and lifted me into the air like I was the bride of a Jewish wedding. Again I tried to gain control of my body and again I failed. All I wanted was to escape and return to normalcy. Then I thought, why? Wasn’t my normal life just sitting alone at the bar being miserable? I looked around at the men surrounding me and saw how happy they were, how happy I made them. I realized then that this is what I always wanted, what I needed. I stopped fighting and let the song take me. The song, the men, the bar, they all blended into me and we became one joyous entity. So now I ask you — yeah that’s right you, you miserable little schmuck — to come and join me where the sky is blue! The sea is green! In our yellow submarine!