When I was nine years old, my parents took me and my sister to the Destiny U.S.A., an iconic mall located in Syracuse, N.Y., as a surprise trip. “Destiny,” as we often refer to it, is relatively large compared to other famous malls in the United States. Containing six floors and over 250 stores and restaurants, it was a complete and total labyrinth to me.   

On a hot summer day in July, we arrived at Destiny U.S.A., hungry and irritable from a three-and-a-half-hour-long trip. My father suggested my sister and I examine the mall directory and find a place that we wanted to eat. While my mother was rattling off from a list of restaurants in Destiny that she found online while we sat in the parking garage, a particular sign caught my eye.   

It was colorful, featuring a warm sunset and a bright blue parrot. Glowing like a beacon in the night, its large green letters read: “Margaritaville.” Yes, you guessed it: it was one of Jimmy Buffett’s chain bar-and-restaurant locations at Destiny U.S.A. in Syracuse as if northern New York is the top destination for travelers looking to experience the many wonders of tropical paradise.   

At the ripe age of nine, I hadn’t a fathom of what a margarita was, nor did I care. That garish sign had sparked quite the curiosity in me. When I asked my father (who in my mind was the lord of all things pop culture) what a “Margaritaville” was, he gave a chuckle and explained the significance of Jimmy Buffett. We listened to a couple of Buffett’s most well-known songs in the car while my father described both the impact of Buffett’s music and his carefree attitude. As of today, I’ve still never been to a Margaritaville location. However, since that day in July, sitting in the parking garage attached to Destiny U.S.A., I’ve held a deep appreciation for Buffett.   

I was extremely disheartened exactly two weeks ago today when I found out that American icon Jimmy Buffett, champion of island escapism and most beloved by white, middle-aged alcoholics, had passed away. Ever the proprietor of the decadent and equatorial lifestyle, Buffett is most well-known for his songs “Margaritaville,” “It’s Five O’clock Somewhere,” and “Cheeseburger in Paradise.” In the name of truly invoking the island spirit, members of Buffett’s fan base are frequently referred to as “Parrotheads.”   

According to his Wikipedia page, Buffett learned to play the guitar during his time at Auburn University in order to “attract girls.” Buffett even worked as a rock journalist for “Billboard” for a short period of time and was the first in the industry to report the separation of the bluegrass duo Flatt and Scruggs. Buffett was considered by many to be an animated, fun-loving performer who often devalued education. His song “Math Suks,” released in 1999, was condemned by the National Education Association, as they claimed that the song allegedly negatively impacted children’s learning.  

Buffett released his first album in 1970. Until his death on Sept. 1, he had released more than 30 albums throughout the entirety of his music career, nine of which are certified platinum. With a net worth of around $1 billion, Buffett was one of the world’s wealthiest musicians. Buffett’s final album, titled “Equal Strain on All Parts,” is projected to be released posthumously on Nov. 3.  

Like the glowing sign situated atop the Destiny U.S.A., Buffett’s legacy shines on even after his passing. In these two weeks following his death, Americans across the country have partaken in the consumption of alcohol in Buffett’s honor, sharing their most beloved margarita recipes on social media and listening to music that falls under the genre of “Tropic Rock.” If you haven’t already, be sure to pour one out for Buffett while the weather’s still warm. Legend has it that every time you drink a margarita in Buffett’s name, a baby boomer in a Hawaiian shirt materializes somewhere in Florida.