The Smiths “Panic (Hang The DJ)”

It was one of those days. I was coming back to the Island on the Steamship Authority, and I was already late.

It’s summertime and the boat was an Ark overflowing with summer visitors, pushing and jockeying to make sure they were going to set foot on the Martha’s Vineyard before the 800 lumps in line behind them, who themselves were trying to do the same thing.

“I’M going to work,” I grumbled to myself, in full August-annoyed mode.

The Island Home had left Woods Hole 20 minutes late, so I was going to get to the radio station later than I’d planned to start with.

But now I’m out in the hot sun at the Vineyard Haven Pick-up/Drop-off, and my taxi is nowhere to be found. I’d called as soon as I got on the boat, to make sure they were waiting for me, so I could go straight to the radio station.

Twenty minutes tick by, and I realize that they’re not just late or caught in traffic.

“Hey, it’s PJ Finn. I called for an appointment an hour ago . . . “

“Ah crap,” the dispatcher says, “I forgot you. I don’t have a cab anywhere near you right now. Hang tight, I’ll see who I can send.”

Ah crap.

So there I stand for another 20 minutes, wilting in the sun. I’m dressed for the mvyradio offices, which have to be kept super-air-conditioned cold, due to the equipment. I’m wearing a sweatshirt and jeans and socks for God’s sake.

Finally, a cab swings around the corner, piloted by one of the young, bearded, college student summer drivers.

As I pull myself into the van, I hear what’s coming out of his iPod.

“Hang The DJ. Hang The DJ. Hang the DeeeJaayyy.”

I don’t hate much. But I hate Morrissey.

“Are you guys trying to send me a message?” I ask the driver. He shrugs, not clued in to where I’m coming from, and off we go.

Hear The Smiths “Panic (Hang The DJ)”

See the video, here