Jennifer held the employee's arm tightly.
Underneath the flashing disco light, it appeared
as though he was blushing. He looked to Grace
for guidance. "Fine! Go ahead," Grace said. But
then she added, "I'm so embarrassed. I'm
sorry for my friend," and continued speaking
to him in Korean again. Jennifer laughed and
finally let the poor man go.
You can learn a lot about your friends while
trapped inside a small closet with plenty of
booze and a karaoke machine. The microphone in
our little room was warmed up, and the boys,
who had been drinking and mocking us, decided
to give karaoke a try. Kip sang "Paradise City," surprising
everyone, including his wife, with his accurate
impression of Axl Rose. While singing "Lust for
Life," Ron cracked up as the words "Well, that's
like hypnotizing chickens" appeared on the screen.
For the rest of the week, this would be our phrase
to describe everything from washing the car to
dining out.
But the pièce de résistance was
yet to come. I stumbled across the song accidentally.
Once I saw it, I was compelled to act. Without
a sound, without a gesture, using only my eyes,
I captured Ollie's attention. Ollie -- the
heavily tattooed curmudgeon who hates the idea
of karaoke, who was convinced to come this evening
only because it was Ron's birthday. Pretty
soon, everyone would know what I knew -- Ollie
is a sucker for passionately sung female-vocalized
songs. And he doesn't just like to listen
to them -- he likes to sing along.
I raised my brows, and Ollie gave me a questioning
look. I looked down at my finger, pointing to
our song, "Total Eclipse of the Heart," and he
followed my gaze. A few years ago, this song
came on the radio while Ollie was riding with
David and me to a party. David hates the song.
In an effort to annoy him, I turned it louder
and sang along. Ollie joined in on the fun, and
we were having such a great time, I didn't
even think to question how Ollie had come to
know every word. After that night, whenever we
felt like teasing David, we would begin singing.
But we were doing more than annoying David --
we were practicing for this night, in this tiny
room. Finally, our moment to shine had come.
We knew our roles. Ollie kicked it off and belted
the chorus, and I sang the quiet, serious parts
solo.
"Turn around."
"Every now and then I get a little bit lonely
and you're never coming round."
"Turn around."
"Every now and then I get a little bit tired
of listening to the sound of my tears." His
next "Turn around" overlapped the word "tears," and
just as quickly, I followed up with "Every
now and then I get a little bit nervous that
the best of all the years have gone by." Our
voices climbed until they reached the stained
ceiling of our little room. I forgot about
the possibility of embarrassment, and Ollie
let his tough-guy image fall around him as
he raised his head to belt out the next line, "Turn
around, bright eyes," and I practically
cried, "Every now and then I fall apart!"
The laughter that accompanied each previous
song had stopped. Our friends were listening
to us, riveted, enjoying the show. We impressed
them with our devoted adherence to Bonnie Tyler's
style and voice. When the song was over and we
came back to the room, our friends were clapping
and cheering. As if to prove that he still had
a penis, Ollie chose to sing "Anarchy in the
U.K." next. And by "sing," I mean "scream." Ron
was happy to join in with the second microphone
until the rest of us had our hands on our ears
in an effort to protect our precious drums.
I thought of all the Karaokians I'd encountered,
the venues, the attitudes, and the solemnity
with which some approach this pastime -- a recreation
that was invented as a way to involve and entertain
the audience so that everyone could be a star,
at least for the length of one song. My friends
didn't have their own discs. No one in my
group was serious about singing. No one worried
about being better or worse than anyone else.
And like the small Asian man at the Tickled Trout
who sang "Are the reeves are budown," we
were just having fun. Isn't that supposed
to be the point?
