Green Mountain G

Just last weekend, I drove out into the woods of central Vermont. Some friends and I all got a house in Waitsfield, near Sugarbush ski resort. We sat around, listened to music, drank irresponsibly, rode sleds down slick winter roads, had bug-scooting races (yes, races-it requires some explantion), ate big meals, laughed. If you haven't done it lately, I recommend it highly. All of it.

It was good to get on the road again, too. Living without a car, I haven't made enough escapes from the manic Manhattan maelstrom. And driving alone in a car gives you something don't always have - time to think, or not think at all. Time to be steadfastly aloof, in all the best ways.

So, I'm driving along the rolling, pastoral by-ways of Vermont (getting lost at least once of course) and am looking for something decent to listen to on the radio. I am guessing there will be country stations--and there are. But eventually I land on something I didn't expect-- hip-hop. I guess I just didn't think the mountains of Vermont would have a significant hip-hop loving population. I am glad I was wrong.

I listened to the song that was on. It's at the top of the charts, by a man named Flo Rida. And it featured someone else named T-Pain. The lyrics went:

Shawty had them Apple Bottom Jeans [Jeans]
Boots with the fur [With the fur]
The whole club was lookin at her
She hit the flo [She hit the flo]
Next thing you know
Shawty got low low low low low low low low

Wow, I thought. She got very low on the dance flo. Good dancer. Very limber.... she's probably be great in a limbo contest.

The song continued:

Them baggy sweat pants
And the Reeboks with the straps [With the straps]
She turned around and gave that big booty a smack [Ayy]
She hit the flo [She hit the flo]
Next thing you know
Shawty got low low low low low low low low


I think the bracketed parts are where T-Pain comes in. T-Pain says Ayy. I enjoyed the song, but I couldn't help but think about how different Flo Rida and I are. For example, I could never use the word "Shawty". From my limited knowledge on the subject, I am pretty sure it is affectionate term for a woman. But I don't think I could pull it off.

At work:

"Do you know where shawty put the toner for the printer?"

In the subway:

"Excuse me, shawty, but can you tell me if the B train is still running?"

When playing trivia games:

"No, I think the answer is Marie Curie. She discovered polonium. Shawty won a Nobel, but shawty also ended up radioactive. Poor shawty died for Science."

These are the things I think about on long rides through the New England countryside. The universal appeal of music, evolutions in etymology, and just how low Shawty's gonna go on the dance flo. Ayy.