Hey, Alanis, I know I’m about 15 years too late on this and far from the first person to point this out, but that fly in my chardonnay wasn’t ironic, nor was that rain on my wedding day (though, given the subsequent divorce, it was a harbinger of sad times to come).
But, sitting on this unforgiving carpet covered bench-slash-ledge at the Jet Blue terminal at JFK, it’s hard to miss the irony that my lament for the lack of snow in Maine was finally heard today, heard so well that my flight from Portland to JFK was delayed by snow just long enough to cause me to miss my connection to Denver and plans for snowboarding at Keystone this evening. Yes, Alanis, in that rambling sentence, there is irony: my wish for snow has prevented me from enjoying it.
Now, you’ll have to excuse me, my ass is completely numb from sitting here in the free hotspot Jet Blue provided. If only it could be numb from sitting on a chairlift instead….
P.S. Please forgive me, Alanis, if your intention with Ironic was to write a song that seemed to be about irony but was actually about being unfortunate and therefore ironically named.