Where Are the Parrotheads?

Something happened to me years ago that has been etched into my mind ever since. I thought it would be a good idea to share it with others so they do not make the same mistakes. This article will help others learn how not to meet a new (as of yet unmet) friend at a Jimmy Buffet concert.

For a little background information: I was living in Florida at the time. One day I found myself in my employer's lunchroom. I noticed there were many flyers hung up around the room. I was reading them and getting information about 'Parrothead' gatherings. "Be around fellow Parrotheads", "Help your community", etc. was the recurring theme. Food drives, community clean-ups, and other civic duty services were being provided by the group. While I was reading the flyers, someone walked into the room. Being rather befuddled and uninformed, I stated, "It is really nice that all these parrot lovers are getting together to help out the community." The look I received was - as the saying goes - priceless. It was a combination of "are you serious?" "should I laugh?", and "what rock did you come out from under?"

Then, very politely (without laughter, but with a grin), I heard - "Parrotheads are Jimmy Buffet fans." Oh. So, naturally, I asked "why?" She did not know why, only that they were. OK. That was my first exposure to the term Parrothead. I would not have to ask what the term meant again. It stuck in my mind for years.

Forwarding a few years, I had moved across the country. While still new to the area, I found out that Jimmy Buffet was coming to town. I thought it would be a good idea to meet some like-minded individuals. I was a Jimmy Buffet fan, after all. So, I got online to check out the local Parrotheads. I had heard somewhere that there were local groups nationwide of Parrotheads. I found the local chapter and gave the officers a call. Remember, this is my first actual contact with a real-life Parrothead. (Unless the polite one mentioned above was one in disguise.)

The President of the local chapter described the community activities that were currently going on with the chapter. He then went on to invite me to partake and get a chance to meet other members. He explained how the group formed and what great people made up the membership. It sounded very nice and enticing. We had a delightful chat. Our conversation ended with him extending an invitation to their pre-concert party. I was told it would be held in a certain room at the venue. There were to be about 30 members there. The party sounded like fun. He also mentioned that he would be easy to spot since he would have on his famous homemade HUGE sombrero. Every decoration on it was handmade and symbolized something. OK, that would be easy to find - I said to myself. He then recommended that I call the Vice President of the local chapter and introduce myself. So, I did.

The Vice President and I chatted a bit. She also mentioned what a great group it was and how involved in the community they were. It sounded fantastic. I mentioned I was interested in hooking up at the pre-concert party. "Great!" she exclaimed. She told me that she would be easy to find since she would have on her coconut bra, grass skirt, and sombrero. WHAT?! That was not something I heard everyday. (Even living in Florida.) She pointed out that she would also be carrying her boom box with Jimmy Buffet's hit "Let's Get Drunk & Screw" playing. Did I hear that right? This was definitely going to be an experience.

Being from Florida, my wardrobe consisted of many golf shirts. So, I felt it appropriate to wear one to the concert. Hmm. Pulling into the parking lot on concert night, I knew it was going to be something to remember. I looked around and thought, "What the ?!?!?!?" I am no concert novice by any means. I have been attending concerts for over 35 years. Still, I was not prepared for what I saw. There was row after row of tailgating parties, Corona lights being passed around, and grilling activities everywhere. I had never seen so many tropical shirts in one place (and this is after living in Florida for 10 years). Tropical shirts ruled, as did flip flops, straw hats, sunglasses (there was no sun), shorts, etc. Boom boxes everywhere where blaring Jimmy Buffet songs. It was a tropical paradise in a parking lot.

Walking into the stadium surprised me even more. Everywhere I looked it looked like Touristville in paradise. I was looking around, in marvel, when suddenly a Congo line appears out of nowhere. I am grabbed into it, and before I knew what was happening…."Cha cha cha cha ..kick kick….."cha cha cha cha kick kick", etc….This went on for a couple minutes and I could see this was not going to end soon. So, I hopped out of the line. I was on a mission to find my local Parrothead group.

After walking around for a bit, I finally found the room I was supposed to be in. This was the room known affectionately as "headquarters" for my local Parrothead chapter. It was a roomful of tropical shirt, straw hat, flip flop wearing people holding their Corona beers. There even was someone walking around in a parrot costume. Someone else had a shark head on. Quite a few people had fins on their head. (I would learn why during the concert!). I wish I had a video camera. I swear this is true. It was a bustling room full of much merriment. It was packed and very loud. There must have been about 100+ people in this room. And, there were more HUGE sombreros in this room than Wal-Mart has in inventory. How was I ever going to find my contacts? (Mind you, this was only one room containing these tropically attired people. The entire venue, inside and out, was swarming with these tropically attired Jimmy Buffet fans).

So, I asked one of these tropically attired individuals where the Parrotheads were. Mistake…BIG MISTAKE. That brings us to the subject of this article….how not to meet a new friend at a Jimmy Buffet concert…his response was "WE'RE ALL PARROTHEADS!!" He walked away and there I stood amidst the throng. Once again…."What the ?!?!?!?"

I suddenly felt very uncomfortable. I must have stood out like a sore thumb. I probably had a look of disbelief on my face. I just stood there scanning the crowd with my eyes. Did anyone hear me? Was that laughter I heard a result of my question? Was I the butt of other's jokes? I wondered. I was dressed in Florida attire. My golf shirt and jeans were comfortable when I left home. Now I wish I would have bought some tropical shirts before I moved. Come to think of it, everyone was having such a good time, nobody probably noticed. Everyone just wanted to have fun and relish in being a Parrothead. I prefer believing that.

I started walking around again after being befuddled for a bit. Finally (after what seemed like an eternity), I heard "Let's Get Drunk & Screw" booming out of the corner crowd. It was way in the back of the room. I ventured over, and sure enough….there was my coconut bra, grass skirt wearing contact swilling her Corona. I very hesitantly and sheepishly asked, "Are you Ann??" "YES!! Are you Marie?!" Whew! My mystery was solved. "Yes!! You wouldn't believe what has happened to me tonight!" I exclaimed. I then proceeded to share my experience with her and the rest of the group. They totally loved it. We had some fantastic laughs over it. The rest of the night was a blast. In fact, the entire night was one to remember fondly. The concert itself is an entire other article.

In closing, I hope this article will be used to show how not to meet a new (but as of yet unmet) friend at a Jimmy Buffet concert. Take it from someone who learned the hard way. Do not ever walk into a roomful of Jimmy Buffet fans at one of his concerts and ask, "Where are the Parrotheads?" You will never be the same.

(NOTE: I have since bought a grass skirt, coconut bra, tropical shirt, and flip-flops. Jimmy Buffet will be back around sometime. I better be prepared. I am a Parrothead in disguise. )

BIO: Marie Buckner is a freelance published author of over 200+ articles, ezines, research papers, and web content. Visit her website at www.mebmedia.com. Also, read her work at www.associatedcontent.com.