Like coyotes howling at the moon, "Bar P" presented the opportunity for our A-to-Z crew to flex their pipes as our bar tour took us to Peyote Cafe for some good ole' fashioned karaoke. [Tongue Twister Aside: say "Coyote Karaoke at Peyote" five times fast]. But not before we flexed our stomachs to their mass fluid capacity by partaking in not one but two power hours as a pregame activity.
The evening kicked off at my house, where I introduced the crowd to Jimmy P's classic power hour DVD, Vol. 1 -- containing 60 one-minute clips from classic music videos of the 70s, 80s, and early 90s. On the list of Jimmy's lifetime achievements, this DVD ranks at or near the top (you'll have to ask me in person about the other "achievements" on this list). Picture Earth, Wind & Fire transitioning to Journey switching to Debbie Gibson followed by Salt n' Peppa, and you get the picture. When volume 1 ended, the group demanded more, so I happily obliged, putting on Vol. 4, which is essentially the same as Vol. 1, only 4 times drunker. (Vols. 2 and 3 were buried in a time capsule circa 2005, to be unearthed in 30 years or when robots rule the world, whichever comes first). Oh, and Vol. 4 featured Technotronic's "Pump Up The Jam," perhaps the best video of all time ... that was clearly filmed in at a green screen "studio" at Six Flags (click here now: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1K7fL5s_1ac).
For some odd reason, the second power hour sped by real quick, so we hopped in cabs bound for Adam's Morgan's priceless gem, Peyote Cafe. Even though we arrived fairly late for a happy hour venue, other than the overwhelming stench of urine, the place was deserted. Seizing this opportunity to get right to the karaoke, Max and I decided to start the night with a beautiful duet of Ace of Base's "The Sign." We handed the DJ our slip, then waited near the microphone with baited breath. But something sad started happening. Loser after loser was called up to sing some silly song, while Max and I stood there stupified. Why weren't we being summoned to share our voices with the world? Was it because the DJ was racist against Swedish Supergroups? No -- he let people sing ABBA. Did he not like Max's Ed Hardy T-shirt? Possibly, but surely there was some other reason. Unfortunately, we didn't realize our mistake until much later when the bar was far too crowded to correct it: we didn't tip when we gave the slip. Call that Lesson #1 of the evening.
Despite my disappointment, the night wasn't without A-to-Zers vocal talents. Jen sang a rousing rending of "Ain't No Mountain High Enough." Matt bored the bar to death with Bob Seger's "Turn the Page." I was invited by a group of shrieking bachelorettes to sing the male part on the B-52s' "Love Shack." I delivered. The night also had some scary parts to it. At one point, a friend of a friend showed up celebrating her birthday. Our mutual friend bought a round of tequila shots, and handed me a lime. Lime in hand, I was all set to share in this stranger's special day, when she walked up to me, grabbed the lime out of my hand, and said "It's MY birthday. I get the lime!" Evidently, there were not enough limes to go around. I should have known better than to stand in the way of Drunk Girl On Her Birthday during a Lime Shortage. Consider that Lesson #2 of the night. Of course, I can relate, as those of you who knew me during the Great Pudding Shortage of '89 can attest.
The night went by far too quick, but we had a good crowd turnout and all enjoyed their time at Peyote, which in my book never disappoints. I left relatively early by AdMo standards to buy my summer interns some Jumbo Slice (note to my employer: I billed this time to the Recruiting department), but I understand our group closed down the bar -- always an impressive feat.
All-star of the evening: Me. It's high-time I recognized myself. Plus, I truly think I did an amazing job on "Love Shack." Next time, I take requests.
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