Bali Hai

I must be on a tropical kick lately. I've mentioned tropical drinks (margaritas...are they tropical?), bananas, and plantains. My inspiration this time is tropical shirts. As I was working this morning and looking out at the fountain outside my office window, I noticed about 3 people that passed by that were wearing a Hawaiian tropical shirt. Mind you, they weren't the same tropical shirt, but several variations on a theme of one. The same thing happened yesterday while I was at rehearsal, one or two people were wearing tropical shirts.

I can't seem to help but think as to whether or not this fashion "icon" will always be a staple of people in Janesville. Perhaps it's because it's now summer and people are getting into the summer spirit, or that people are yearning for a tropical vacation after a winter in which we had entirely too much snow. Whatever the reason may be, I have come to the realization that I don't appreciate the tropical Hawaiian shirt as much as I should.

How many do I have, you might ask? One. Yes, one. It's black, with some vine-type vertical print and pineapples attached to the vine. I chose the vertical stripe pattern since I didn't want to look like an oversized bowl of poi, but rather for the slimming effect that vertical stripes have. In my case, makes me look like an Easter Island monolith. I could have chosen an electric blue, or red, or (my favorite) orange one, but instead, I chose black. After all, black is fashionable. This shirt I own, however, is anything but fashionable. I don't know where in the world they have pinapples growing from vines. Then again, I don't think a pumpkin or squash substitute could ever convey the sense of "tropical." I think I've only ever worn the shirt twice, once for a friend of mine's wedding rehearsal dinner, and the second, I think, was because I literally needed something to wear as I was doing laundry.

My affinity for the Hawaiian shirt is likened to the same feeling I have hearing the song, "Bali Hai" from "South Pacific." Not only is it my least favorite song, but least favorite musical. Perhaps subliminally, my tropical preoccupation must signal that I need a vacation or something.

I hope it comes quickly, for I fear that I'll somehow dress like Dustin Hoffman in "Meet the Fockers." Yikes!