ALICE'S RESTAURANT (2020)

(words by Ben Gould, orig. words and music by Arlo Guthrie)



[guitar intro]

You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in, it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant

It all started a little over three months ago, actually a hundred days ago, when 
I got a message from my employer. I was informed that I wouldn't have to go into 
work again for a long time, and I was also informed that I shouldn't go 
anywhere, see anyone, or touch anything. So me and my family of four were 
crammed into our tiny one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn and we stayed there for 
what seemed like forever. 

I started singing some songs, and everything was fine for a few weeks, but then 
that tiny one-bedroom Brooklyn apartment started to feel smaller and smaller and 
my two children started to sound louder and louder and soon everybody was 
grumpier and grumpier. So we packed up the family into our black Dodge Caravan 
with a roofbox loaded up with everything we might need to survive the apocalypse 
and went off looking for another place to ride out armageddon.

Now when we set off in the van, we all noticed a horrible odor. It turns out if 
you park a car on a Brooklyn street for weeks and weeks, sometimes you end up 
with furry inhabitants. These particular inhabitants seemed to have a particular 
love for chicken bones, and it turned out that a whole family of rats had built 
a nest in the ventilation system, and for some time it had been their black 
minivan instead of ours. 

We had to take apart the ventilation system and clean it out and spray a bunch 
of different chemicals in there, but that's not what I came to tell you about.

I came to talk about tennis.

Now during a global pandemic, if you manage to stay far far away from everybody 
else for at least fourteen days, and you know somebody else who's also been able 
to stay far away from everybody else for fourteen days, and as long as neither 
of you gets sick, you can decide to get together and stay away from everybody 
else, together. 

And that's what we did. And my family and my wife's sister's family joined up 
with my wife's parents, and our little universe of four people was now at least 
eight and a half people. And there were some activities that hadn't been 
possible before, and my brother and I started playing tennis. And with nowhere 
to go and nobody to see, we ended up playing quite a lot of tennis.

And on the very first day we went to the tennis court, we saw a little metal box 
on the end of the court. And it said, in Sharpie, one dollar for sixty minutes, 
quarters only. And we looked up, saw some floodlights up above, and we realised 
that we just might be able to play tennis in the middle of the night, which 
seemed exceptionally socially distant and like a very good idea.

So one night we decided to give it a try, and we started looking around for 
quarters. Neither of us had been to the store for at least two months, much less 
received any kind of actual change, so we looked in every pocket we had, we 
scoured every last crevice of the black Dodge Grand Caravan with the roofbox 
loaded up with everything we might need to survive the apocalypse, and after 
much effort we managed to find six quarters.

We headed up to the tennis court, parked the Caravan in the grass, grabbed our 
tennis rackets, and headed for the court. When we got to the court, there was a 
problem that we hadn't counted upon. We walked up to the box, took out our six 
quarters, and read what it said on the box: two dollars for sixty minutes, 
quarters only. 

I went over to my brother-in-law, and I said brother-in-law, I swear it was only 
one dollar. I'm not sure he believed me, and we weren't feeling too good until 
we looked over and noticed there was another box at the end of the next court 
over. We walked over to that one and it said, in Sharpie, one dollar for sixty 
minutes, quarters only.

And everything was fine until we tried to put a quarter in it, and the quarter 
came right back out. So we put another one in, and it came right back out. So at 
this point we knew that we needed two more quarters, so we called up Alice -- 
remember Alice? this is a song about Alice -- we called up Alice and asked her 
if she had any more quarters. She said she did, and when we got back to the 
house, she had exactly two more quarters there waiting for us. 

We drove back to the tennis court in the black Dodge Grand Caravan with the 
roofbox loaded up with everything we might need to survive the apocalypse, and 
parked back on the grass, grabbed our tennis rackets, walked back onto the 
court, went back up to the metal box that said it cost two dollars, we put the 
quarter in the box, and it plunked back out the bottom. We put another one in 
there, and it did the same thing. 

Now at this point, we came to the realisation that it was a typical case of 
American infrastructure deterioration, and we weren't going to be playing tennis 
in the middle of the night, and we were just about to head back home with our 
tails between our legs when my brother-in-law turned to me and said, do you have 
a screwdriver?

And I ran back up to the black Dodge Grand Caravan with the roofbox loaded up 
with everything we might need to survive the apocalypse, retrieved some tools, 
and we opened up the electrical box. We looked at the specification of the 
switches inside the box, and on the internet determined the function of each 
wire, and we found a jumper wire that just happened to be hanging from the fence 
there, right there on the fence, and everything was fine. We were all ready to 
hot-wire the lights when a dark SUV slowly approached the Caravan.

Now let me tell you about the town of Clayton, New York, where this is 
happening. They have three full-time police officers, two part-time police 
officers, and one police car. But rumor has it they're all getting laid off, so 
you can imagine how much they want to make it look like they're doing their 
jobs. 

Anyway, the SUV slowed up on the road, and stopped right behind the black Dodge 
Grand Caravan with the roofbox loaded up with everything we might need to 
survive the apocalypse, and turned on the searchlight, and carefully inspected 
the Dodge Grand Caravan, its roofbox, and no doubt found some of the many things 
we had in there for surviving the apocalypse.

We were standing there in the dark, naturally. My friend was holding a piece of 
wire and a screwdriver. I was holding a tennis racket, since we were there to 
play tennis. And there we were standing, just frozen there, and the searchlight 
started to move away from the van, and it tipped up higher and higher.

And the spotlight was racing towards us... until it shone directly on us...

And I ... I thought at that moment our effort at playing night-time tennis was 
coming to a dramatic and unfortunate conclusion, and I was beginning to wish 
that we had never even attempted to hot-wire the Clayton Recreation Center's 
tennis court lights. And I was trying to think of what I might say if that 
officer came over to us, and decided my best course of action was to hold up my 
tennis racket high and say ...

You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant

Now of course, it didn't come to that. He lowered his spotlight and drove away, 
and we went back to hot-wiring the floodlights only to find that the power was 
out anyway. We got back in the black Dodge Grand Caravan with the roofbox loaded 
up with everything we might need to survive the apocalypse, and drove back to 
the house without playing a single point of tennis.

But it left me wondering exactly what it was Officer Obie was looking for, if 
not, apparently, two grown men standing in the dark with a screwdriver and a 
tennis racket. And I ask you to ask yourselves, would the situation have ended 
any differently if the two of us hadn't looked quite as much like Officer Obie 
himself. 

And all we were trying to do was play a simple game of tennis. If this pandemic 
has taught us something about anything, it's how it feels to try to do something 
exceptionally ordinary and face all kinds of obstacles and real peril along the 
way. And the only way that we're going to come out of a mess like this is by 
starting to work together. 

And we need to learn to empathise with each other and realise that someone else 
experiencing hardship over and over again probably represents a real problem and 
not some politically-motivated stunt to make you feel bad. And the only reason 
I'm singing you this song now is you may find yourself in a similar situation, 
or you may be trying to empathise with someone in a similar situation, and if 
you're in a situation like that, trying to do something exceptionally ordinary 
but facing great peril, there's only one thing you can do. 

Lift up your voice and sing a bar of Alice's Restaurant. Now if just one person 
does it, they may think he's mentally ill. And hopefully they'll show him some 
compassion. And if two people do it, in harmony, they may think they're both 
hippies and will probably just steal the rest of your beer. And if three people 
do it, can you imagine, three people looking straight into the face of an 
oppressor and singing Alice's Restaurant? They'll think it's a Tik-Tok and know 
that they're on camera.

And can you imagine fifty people a day, I said, fifty people a day standing in 
solidarity and singing Alice's Restaurant? Well, friends, they may think it's a 
movement. And that's what it is, the Alice's Restaurant Anti-Massacree Movement. 
And all that you've got to do to join is to sing it the next time it comes 
around on the guitar.

You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in, it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant

That was horrible. I've been singing this song for fifteen minutes. I could sing 
it for another fifteen minutes. Hell, I've been singing a song a day for a 
hundred days. I could do it for another hundred days. I'm not proud... or tired. 

Maybe a little tired.

If you want to end this pandemic... If you want to end racism... we got to learn 
to work together. So we'll wait until it comes around on the guitar and sing it 
when it does, this time with harmony and feeling. Here it comes...

You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in, it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant

recording: Ben Gould [Facebook]