How long is the ‘Beastie Boys’ most famous song?

    Life is made of experiences. The small moments, the big moments, the boring ones and the once-in-a lifetime ones. The times when all you leave is a note on your bed and a kiss goodbye. I love those experiences, I live for those experiences. I crave beyond what ‘the norm’ can provide. That’s why I dive at opportunities, any and all that I get, to truly experience life.

    

    Three summers back, I was on the sunny island of Anguilla with my older brother, Mom, and Dad. I was having the trip of my life. I swam, ate rich food and caught exotic lizards and pet all the street cats I could. I even swam out to a boat and jumped off the roof before the owner could realize I had snuck on.

    But, my favorite experience only took 4 minutes and 1 second. That’s how long Fight For Your Right, by The Beastie Boys is. Not many 17-year-old teenage girls could provide you that information, but I know it. I know it because I sang it.

    We had spent the day with an eccentric fishing guide and his assistant. I woke up early and lathered sunscreen onto my olive skin, careful to avoid getting it into my beach-crazed curly hair I had pulled into a braid in a valiant attempt to tame it. I put on my yellow swimsuit, and wore a sky blue hat and black sunglasses. We drove our sand-filled rental car to a beach with the windows down and my thighs sticking to the seats. We pulled into the parking lot and hopped out, in awe of the raw beauty Anguilla possessed. The small path we followed gave way to a hidden beach carved out of the tropical cliffside littered with vines and crawling lizards. A cool breeze lifted my shirt off my warm skin, bringing comfort to my body. The cover of the cliffs gave us enough shade to take in the crystal water with fish swimming up and down, and laughter floated through the trees, accompanied by the smell of beach food that wafted to our noses to tease us. Our guide, a tanned islander in worn flip-flops approached us. He was nice, and his bubbly personality spread to all of us. We spent the day following a school of fish up and down the coast, and I even hooked a bird (by accident, I promise). But, luck escaped us, as we caught no fish.

    Our guide took pity on us, and told us to meet him that night at a dock to fish for tarpon.

He also added that his buddy was going to DJ at a karaoke bar near the dock. My ears and my Dad’s perked up at this little seemingly insignificant detail. We love to karaoke. My Dad and I have a special shared love for experiences like karaoke in a random bar in Anguilla, zip lining in Costa Rica, hiking in Kauai, mountain biking to rivers and riding horses in the Grand Tetons. We knew we had to sing.

    The sun set that night, the only proof it ever came sat in our sun-kissed cheeks. My Dad drove, I navigated and my brother sat in the back and looked pretty. We traveled along curvy roads, dodged crabs crossing the streets, and sang to songs with no shame. We arrived at a suspicious residence. We pondered if we should enter, but adrenaline whispered to keep driving. After some questionable turns, we felt the bass of a karaoke bar. We parked, met up with our guide and began to fish. I could see the lights of the bar and hear voices singing as we casted into the warm ocean water. When we shined lights on the deep-blue water, we could see turtles and stingrays venturing to the surface in the safety of the pale moonlight. The moon began to become more apparent and we eventually cast out final lines and called it a day, having caught no fish.

    We walked through the cool sand, allowing it to settle in between our toes and walked up the stairs. My palms began to sweat a bit more than the weather warranted for, and my heart began to pump a little faster. My dad picked the song and I went with it. The microphone was handed to me and it fit in my shaking hands. My nerves came to a swell, like the waves I was surrounded by, then crashed down as the first note started. The music infiltrated my veins and coursed through my body. I sang my heart out for 4 minutes and 1 second, laughing at my Dads terrible dancing and walking around the bar getting locals to sing along. When the time was up I had a goofy grin plastered on my tan face, and I couldn’t wait to relive it the next time I could.