Have Fun, Will Travel

I recently had another of those evenings notable enough to be shared. There seem to be more and more of those cropping up, don't there? I suppose that's a positive development. This night in particular sprung from friends of a friend who were in town and being shown a good time by my friend. I had met them on the Monday preceding this account, when they were observing the improv class that our mutual friend and I attend. It hadn't bothered me that they were there watching. After all, the class is for the betterment of performing, and the audience is an essential component thereof. It was nonetheless something I noted, and so I remembered them well in spite of their having hung back and said little.

This night, there was a planned activity of karaoke at an Irish pub not far away. I tend to be skeptical of places that call themselves that, but I am told that it is an authentic Irish owned and operated establishment. I cannot confirm that exactly, as the exact accent of the man at the bar was lost in the noise. Anyway, I heard from two friends about this thing happening, and made up my mind to attend. I checked with the friend leading it, and started working out how I could manage it. Another friend was maybe able to pick me up, but also maybe not, and it would anyway be a while before he was ready. I could be there before then, so didn't see any reason to take a chance.

Before karaoke, the core group was getting tacos. I didn't think I could get over there in time, so I planned on meeting them at the bar. As it turned out, I got to the bar at such a time that I would have been in plenty of time for the tacos, but once at the bar could not get to the restaurant in a timely fashion. I decided I had miscalculated, and resolved to wait  for them. As it turned out, this was itself something of a miscalculation. They did not get there until well after the time when I might have joined them and gotten tacos. It was just as well, as it provided me with the opportunity to try bangers and mash- a British dish, I'll admit, but one which I figured the Irish would at least know how to make. It was good.

Soon enough, the core group arrived, and were followed by friends, well-wishers and hangers-on. I had a Guinness, and sang my first song: "Mississippi Queen" by Mountain. It seemed to be well-received. Other friends sang as well, along with strangers of varying talent levels. One person sang as if he were an elementary school principal, and the lyrics to "Sister Christian" had been surreptitiously slipped into the morning announcements. Others were better, but we cheered on all.

The evening was marred by a case of stepping on toes as severe as it was literal. There was no apparent resentment, and the evening went on without further injurious incident. At closing time, we were booted out. We were not, however, down and out- plans were made to continue the fun at the home of some members of the contingent. We went there for the purpose of partaking of the hookah. It was quite pleasurable. Prolonging the night further was an impromptu screening of "Black Dynamite", a recent spoof of and tribute to the great 70s blaxsploitation films. It was phenomenal.

All this time since leaving the bar, people dropped off and went to bed. In the end, it was one other guy and myself. I was wary of being the last, unwelcome guest at the party, but detected no such sentiment on his part. I could simply have missed it, but only time will really tell. We watched a little TV, talked a lot, and parted ways in the daylight. I headed home in something of a platonic walk of shame, and rushed to the computer to write it before I stopped remembering and feeling it.