Saturday, January 17, 2009

An Italian, a Jew and a Brown guy walk into a bar...

Thursday night, Vince, David, Joseph, William, a few others, and I went to Howl at the Moon, a piano bar in Midtown (is Midtown capitalized? I wonder about these things). As background, it's important for you to realize I'm a loud talker, a poor singer, and unlikely to be embarrassed by my own behavior. So, here's the story.

We were sitting at a table close to the stage. David and I were discussing world affairs, as I recall (It was baseball). The "singers" on stage were trying to start the classic piano bar song "Friends in Low Places" by Garth Brooks while we talked. Apparently, we (read: me) were (was) talking so loudly they couldn't get the song started. So, one of the "singers" with a microphone turns to us and says either shut up or come up here and sing. So, turning to the first of those three disclaimers, I talk loudly. Check. Talking loudly enough to be called out by the "singer" at the piano bar doesn't seem like that much of a stretch. Talking quietly or in my inside voice has never been one of my strengths.

David and I, after briefly considering our options, jump onto the stage. We were not going to be embarrassed by our behavior or shamed into being quiet by that pony-tailed "singer". Another disclaimer, check. I was never going to see the people at that place again. I would never eat there, anyway.

So, the "lead" "singer" handed us a mic and said, get to it. I turned back to him and said, how about some background music, chief? You're sitting at a piano.

So, he starts the song. David and I do not remember how the song starts. I turn back to the piano man and ask him, how about a running start? Again, not off to the best start. Joe Santini, a scholar and a gentleman, comes running onto the stage to help out. We eventually start the song, belting out as many of the lyrics as we can. Remember, there was no karaoke machine. This was from our memory. I'm thinking to myself, hey, we're doing a pretty good job. American Idol, here we come.

We sing the first two verses. The "singer" stops us. He asks the audience, should these guys continue? A round of applause and some people yelling for us. I'm thinking, hey, that's pretty good. An Italian, a Jewish guy and a Brown guy really can sing Country music. What a country.

The singer then asks, should these guys stop singing? A chorus of boos come down, loud as anything you've ever heard. Boo'd off stage!! Now, I can only blame myself. I've been told I have the singing voice of an angel, but I realize now that was all lies. All that Rock Band practice for nothing. Boo'd off of the stage!!!

We didn't get a prize. We didn't get a thank you. We got boo'd and yelled at by strangers. Now, that's just rude. But, we didn't let that "singer" tell us to be quiet. We showed him.

(Photo courtesy of Sara. Used with permission. Thank you.)

4 comments:

FUNG! said...

One of your best stories ever.

You're lucky they didn't try to stone you. I know you're not Muslim, but hey, what's the difference?

Lauren said...

Great night. However, I expect more next time. Vinny brought a pizza (appropriate). Next time, we also expect curry and bagels.

N.a.t.e said...

I wish I could have been there to see this, or join in on the song...

Anonymous said...

I am cold and alone and Vike - do not take my e