Chapter 39: Straight Clubbin'
Let's just say that I was...hmm...a social outcast at times. I wasn't the funny person of the group. I was the one that caught onto the joke 15 minutes too late when it was no longer funny, and would bust out laughing once I caught on, thus resulting in odd stares. I did try, however, to be the cool person. This is why I took up the hobby of drinking. Alcohol seemed to make me more interesting. After a few shots, I became the life of the party. Okay, not really, but I was more entertaining.
My favorite hang out for some reason was The Marina. The Marina was a dump, but I never had to pay a cover, I received free drinks, and they had karaoke on Thursdays. My roommate and I would rush through Field Day, have our room pre-inspected, and then hit The Marina for the evening.
Our night would begin with me trying to play pool. No matter how hard I tried, I could never put the ball in the hole. Even when I used the big end of the cue, the ball never went in. So after one game of pool, I was ready to move on and get my groove on the dance floor.
Once we found a table by the bar, we would search through the karaoke book, trying to find the perfect song to sing. Granted, no one in my group ever sang. They just flipped through the book, waiting for time to pass. But not me. I would search page by page, in search of the most perfect song.
There is something about me and alcohol that made me think that I could actually sing. Let's just say, I sing like a cat getting murdered. It's not pretty. But I was so determined to sing like I was Mariah Carey. There were some great singers that would sing there and get the crowd moving. Those were the pros. I was the opposite. I just didn't realize it.
When my name was called, I took a shot while the crowd cheered me on. I followed the guy who just perfected his version of "Pretty Fly For a White Guy." I stood up, pulled my skirt down, flattened my fro (it was humid, cut me some slack) and proudly walked up to the mic. Then my song started to play. I could suddenly hear people saying, "What the hell? What is this crap?" Ah, but the show must go on.
In my best voice, I started singing my song, "We've only just begun, to live....white lace and promises, a kiss for luck and we're on our way...." Yes. I was singing in my best Karen Carpenter voice, "We've Only Just Begun." Seriously, if I wanted to bring back the 70's, I should have sang some Sister Sledge or something that normal people could jive to, but no, I had to belt out the damn Carpenters. The audience grew quiet and I eventually started to get booed, but I didn't care. I still sang. And when I was done, you could hear crickets. Crickets. Crickets. More Crickets. Then you hear the MC say, "Okay, um, great job." I then ran back to my table, high-fiving people. Believe it or not, my friends didn't abandon me. But they laughed at me. At least I made someone laugh.
Ah, the Marina. Good times, good times.
What amazed me was after a night of drinking and closing the place down, I managed to survive work the desk day. 3 hours of sleep did my body well. I was able to wake up at 5 am, go PT and work a full day, full of energy. Maybe because I knew in 16 hours, I would repeat the night before. Motivation. That's what kept the blood flowing. Sad, but true. At least I didn't hang out at the E-Club....
My favorite hang out for some reason was The Marina. The Marina was a dump, but I never had to pay a cover, I received free drinks, and they had karaoke on Thursdays. My roommate and I would rush through Field Day, have our room pre-inspected, and then hit The Marina for the evening.
Our night would begin with me trying to play pool. No matter how hard I tried, I could never put the ball in the hole. Even when I used the big end of the cue, the ball never went in. So after one game of pool, I was ready to move on and get my groove on the dance floor.
Once we found a table by the bar, we would search through the karaoke book, trying to find the perfect song to sing. Granted, no one in my group ever sang. They just flipped through the book, waiting for time to pass. But not me. I would search page by page, in search of the most perfect song.
There is something about me and alcohol that made me think that I could actually sing. Let's just say, I sing like a cat getting murdered. It's not pretty. But I was so determined to sing like I was Mariah Carey. There were some great singers that would sing there and get the crowd moving. Those were the pros. I was the opposite. I just didn't realize it.
When my name was called, I took a shot while the crowd cheered me on. I followed the guy who just perfected his version of "Pretty Fly For a White Guy." I stood up, pulled my skirt down, flattened my fro (it was humid, cut me some slack) and proudly walked up to the mic. Then my song started to play. I could suddenly hear people saying, "What the hell? What is this crap?" Ah, but the show must go on.
In my best voice, I started singing my song, "We've only just begun, to live....white lace and promises, a kiss for luck and we're on our way...." Yes. I was singing in my best Karen Carpenter voice, "We've Only Just Begun." Seriously, if I wanted to bring back the 70's, I should have sang some Sister Sledge or something that normal people could jive to, but no, I had to belt out the damn Carpenters. The audience grew quiet and I eventually started to get booed, but I didn't care. I still sang. And when I was done, you could hear crickets. Crickets. Crickets. More Crickets. Then you hear the MC say, "Okay, um, great job." I then ran back to my table, high-fiving people. Believe it or not, my friends didn't abandon me. But they laughed at me. At least I made someone laugh.
Ah, the Marina. Good times, good times.
What amazed me was after a night of drinking and closing the place down, I managed to survive work the desk day. 3 hours of sleep did my body well. I was able to wake up at 5 am, go PT and work a full day, full of energy. Maybe because I knew in 16 hours, I would repeat the night before. Motivation. That's what kept the blood flowing. Sad, but true. At least I didn't hang out at the E-Club....
Comments
Post a Comment