There's a bum in the Astor Place subway stop who sings Margaritaville. Almost every time I walk down the steps, he is there wailing the opening line: Nibblin' on sponge cake. When I hear this I get excited because I know what's coming.

He strums along and then hits the chorus. BZZANG. The whole platform vibrates with pathos. His voice cracks.

Uptown train rides normally mean that I am hungover, and if I have my special hangover sunglasses, I put them on and sniffle over the line, Searching for my lost shaker of salt. It becomes powerfully symbolic. I feel wretched all the way to 86th.

You can download the Jimmy Buffett version, but it sux in comparison.