The waitress is practicing politics

I used to take piano lessons at this place called "Music Man." It was in the main shopping center in my home town. It was in-between a Jamba Juice and a Subway. It's still there. It's full of all these little white-walled rooms that are supposed to be sound proof. But when you pause playing whatever concerto or show tune you're supposed to have practiced faithfully for the preceding week you can hear someone else playing (sometimes just as badly as you are, sometimes far better) a piece that sounds a lot like yours. Or someone blowing thickly in a clarinet or singing "When You Say Nothing At All" or strumming away at "Good Riddance" or "Stairway to Heaven."

We had recitals occasionally. Brutally. Painfully. We had them in this one church. Methodist? At every recital there was always the some four year old playing a very bold and plunky version of "Fur Elise" or the theme to Star Wars.

I remember one recital when I was fifteen or sixteen when a boy played and sang Billy Joel's "Piano Man." He wasn't that good vocally. But I had a crush on him for the whole five minutes or whatever it was, even though I was distinctly aware that he was like two years younger than I was--which, at fifteen, matters.

In many ways it's just a song about loneliness and drinking and getting stoned and basically going nowhere with your life. So why do I like it so much?