2002-07-22 - 12:37 a.m.

This is one of my all-time favorite songs, and from a couple of years back. I never really put too much thought into what it meant. They Might be Giants songs are rarely dark. I always assumed that it was about some trust fund hippie chick who follows around a band for a summer, smokes some pot, breaks some hearts, and then becomes disillusioned and lonely when her summer loses its thrill and also conveniently comes to a close.

I realized, today, what the song is about. I cried like a baby, and I want to cry now. I don�t know how best to write it�I think I�ll just tell, (and embellish) the story, and maybe do it some justice, maybe not. Again, I�m just trying to give my interpretation of the song�I�m not making comments about the characters here.

A beautiful girl is at a party, and she�s bombed, and she�s bummed. She remembers when the whole scene was brand new to her, and everyone seemed to dance and joy and sing to her. All these new people, and everyone had so much to say, would make points she had never before considered, would go out of their way to talk to her. And then the delight of breaking into the scene. The effort and subsequent reward. She made a name for herself. Every day was fun and new and nowhere to go but up. But as time quickly passed, the parties that had formerly given her so much pleasure became abruptly laborious. Every waking moment seemed like work to her. She suddenly noticed telltale lines around her eyes. She had to struggle to smile and to keep her place in the high-stakes pecking order of her tiny universe. And everything had been said already, and months ago.

And people just aren�t fun anymore. And people aren�t bending over backwards to please her anymore. She�s the one that has to bend over now. She�s the one throwing the parties now�it reminded her of when she turned 21 and she suddenly had to fetch liquor for all of the dudes that had ran to the packie for her when she was underage.

And she�s no longer carefree. Now she has to worry about Matt, and Bill, and Rajon. And Kelly, the rival. And Stacy. And Tyler, and his gang, that showed up three months ago and just won�t leave. And Laurie and her constant drama. Aimee. Boffo, who is all of a sudden moody. Jaquice and his magic. Cassandra. All of the mistakes, and all of the infighting. It�s just not worth it anymore.

People are fake, she realized.

And she�s at this party, and all of a sudden, it hits her. It really does. She suspected it before, but now it�s real. All of the work she�s done to get her where she is means nothing in the world outside of her little group. And she�s putting way more in than she�s getting back.

And, unlike a family, nothing is preventing her from leaving the scene.

She can just go.

This hits her harder because she�s tripping. Yes. And it really is so clear to her. Why hadn�t she realized this before? All she has to do is leave.

She hand-picks a couple of friends to take with her, and perhaps one kid that she brought that needs a ride home.

Cruising down I-91, radio blaring, she�s never felt more free. She�s driven down this highway millions of times, radio blaring, feeling great. Leaving a party. Perhaps celebrating a victory. Perhaps just driving, dropping someone off, half pissed that nothing had been accomplished. Sober wind easing her sweat either way in the summer, or the comfort of the heater in the opposite season. But this time, speeding down I-91, the air somehow tastes better. No more apprehension. Absolutely no power struggles. Her headache is gone. Her stomach has declared a cease-fire. And all the people she truly did love really aren�t the same anymore, so what�s the point of loving their ghosts? And all of the annoying jackasses she had to appease� gone! And no more shaking hands with the friends of friends of friends.

(The narrator is being driven home. The narrator, by the way, is a car.) The man driving it is a well meaning, law-abiding man who probably has a family. He isn�t, and has never been, famous. He was never popular, but he also never really cared that much about being popular. He�s just some guy, driving his car with his hands in the standard ten-and-two position, heading home from work, or from the convenience store, it doesn�t matter. He has no pretensions. He was never on top. He cannot ever be at the bottom.

Just as the girl rates a perfect 100 out of 100 in terms of having a life full of action, adventure, and drama, our stoic driver rates a perfect 100 out of 100 on the uneventful life scale.

But then, out of nowhere, the driver hears something�a blaring radio, and then, all of a sudden, and on an unusually cool summer night, and through the haze,

And then quiet. And then an explosion. Flames.

But not him.

He�s fine. His car is dented. Just that. Only that.

He watches in horror and in sorrow as the four girls burn to death. Helpless. Each one of them. All five, and none move anymore.

And unbearably helpless, this driver, this man, when the police arrive, and so do the ambulances.

And he does nothing more than watch as four charred bodies are lifted onto their destined gurneys, and from there to the backs of pointless ambulances, and from there,

And he sees the girl, the queen of parties, that plowed into his polite and merely nicked car, and he realizes how beautiful she is. Was. Is.

Was.

Is.

And he blames himself. And he blames himself like there�s no tomorrow, because, of course there isn�t one for her. And when tomorrow does eventually happen, as it does stubbornly insist on doing, he blames himself. And his nightmares (which have always been a problem) are all, each one, about her.

And he never, ever, ever drives a car again. Obviously.

And when he moves on, as much as he can, and not very much at that, his one wish is,

But wait. Here�s why the song is brilliant.

Their lives swap.

He was living a dead life. Her life was so full that it could only have been consumed in flames. And she was ready. She was also ready to change. And he wasn�t ready for anything.

And when she died, she willed him a reason to live.

And this reason was, and the sole point of his life became, and the only comfort he could take from then on was that,

All he wants, and actually, all he has ever wanted to do, is to see her again, when there are no more roads for cars, in a place where nobody can ever be hurt, and there can be absolutely nothing between them. That will happen, for them, I swear, at last, at the end of the world.

I hope that, there, two lovers finally find peace.