world famous Pat O’Briens.
There were two huge bars on each side of the crowded room. The middle was filled with cocktail tables with literally no room for dancing, though people were trying their best. I was in total sensory overload. It looked like a scene from the movie Gremlins that I had watched as a kid where the bad Gremlins take over the bar and are swinging from the ceiling. The bartender on our side of the bar screamed at us to “Order now.” We all thought quickly, and as soon as our drinks were delivered, she jumped on top of the bar and kicked off karaoke by singing with the bartender on the opposite side. It was an old eighties song I recognized.
“Lame,” I said shaking my head.
“Don’t knock this music. It’s what our parents fell in love to,” Spencer whispered in my ear. He was almost fully flush on me and I had been so preoccupied with the sights and sounds of New Orleans I was only now taking him in.
He had on jeans and a black short sleeve shirt. He smelled like soap and heaven and had a fresh shave, making his dimples more obvious. I didn’t have time to appreciate it because I was pulled up onto the bar by the bartender who had just finished her song. Spencer helped, getting a good handful of ass as he assisted her in her struggle to get me up. The whistling was ridiculous and my entire crew didn’t bother to help me with my screaming protest. She called me out immediately.
“It’s 80’s night, baby. What’s your flavor?”
I shook my head no vehemently and heard a room full of protests. I attempted to get down but was stopped by the bartender.
“Sing or get out bitch,” she spoke directly into the mic, humiliating me as the crowd cheered for my slow execution.
Whoa. I looked around quickly and realized it must be the norm. I had better get with it and pick something quick. I gave her the only song I could think of, a song my mother played over and over on the record player when I was little. She jumped down and set up my song. A line of guys came up to me offering shot after shot, which I gladly took off their hands. By the time I took shot number four, Spencer was taking them out of their hands, angrily shaking his head no. He gazed at me with shock and awe, and with that look I felt more confident. I saw Rory rip out the camera and gave her the love finger as the first rift of the song came on. I looked to Spencer who mouthed Blondie and I nodded at him as we shared a little moment. Next thing I knew I had a mic in my hand, my shots hadn’t hit and I was up singing The Tide Is High.
They booed me profusely, so I did what any woman with a shitty voice would do. I made it sexy. I started moving around, swinging my hips back and forth, dancing like I was balancing bananas on my head. I really had no talent for dancing, either. The crowd went wild when I started swaying. My shots hit after a minute or so and I began to really belt it out, trying to win them over. I had a crowd of guys follow me as I stepped over the tip jar and made my way around the bar. I sang the last thirty seconds to Spencer, who was smiling so broadly at me his whole face lit up. He chuckled as I imitated the voice squeak at the end of the song. I jumped onto him and handed the mic back to the bitch bartender.
“That really was the worst thing I have ever heard. You sounded like a dying Jonathan.”
I laughed as he let me down and I looked to Rory who seemed to be messing with her camera and gave me the thumbs up. Ellie was pulled up next and started belting out Joan Jett. Ellie was on a bar, in New Orleans, singing. What a different damn world we had entered. When Ellie’s song was over, she was held up by waiting admirers. Jack and Amy had managed to find a table covered in used glasses and we all gathered around sipping our drinks. Jack refused to let Amy out of his sight unless she had to use the bathroom. Even then he watched like a hawk. Amy would be having a good night. I laughed as Rory and
There were two huge bars on each side of the crowded room. The middle was filled with cocktail tables with literally no room for dancing, though people were trying their best. I was in total sensory overload. It looked like a scene from the movie Gremlins that I had watched as a kid where the bad Gremlins take over the bar and are swinging from the ceiling. The bartender on our side of the bar screamed at us to “Order now.” We all thought quickly, and as soon as our drinks were delivered, she jumped on top of the bar and kicked off karaoke by singing with the bartender on the opposite side. It was an old eighties song I recognized.
“Lame,” I said shaking my head.
“Don’t knock this music. It’s what our parents fell in love to,” Spencer whispered in my ear. He was almost fully flush on me and I had been so preoccupied with the sights and sounds of New Orleans I was only now taking him in.
He had on jeans and a black short sleeve shirt. He smelled like soap and heaven and had a fresh shave, making his dimples more obvious. I didn’t have time to appreciate it because I was pulled up onto the bar by the bartender who had just finished her song. Spencer helped, getting a good handful of ass as he assisted her in her struggle to get me up. The whistling was ridiculous and my entire crew didn’t bother to help me with my screaming protest. She called me out immediately.
“It’s 80’s night, baby. What’s your flavor?”
I shook my head no vehemently and heard a room full of protests. I attempted to get down but was stopped by the bartender.
“Sing or get out bitch,” she spoke directly into the mic, humiliating me as the crowd cheered for my slow execution.
Whoa. I looked around quickly and realized it must be the norm. I had better get with it and pick something quick. I gave her the only song I could think of, a song my mother played over and over on the record player when I was little. She jumped down and set up my song. A line of guys came up to me offering shot after shot, which I gladly took off their hands. By the time I took shot number four, Spencer was taking them out of their hands, angrily shaking his head no. He gazed at me with shock and awe, and with that look I felt more confident. I saw Rory rip out the camera and gave her the love finger as the first rift of the song came on. I looked to Spencer who mouthed Blondie and I nodded at him as we shared a little moment. Next thing I knew I had a mic in my hand, my shots hadn’t hit and I was up singing The Tide Is High.
They booed me profusely, so I did what any woman with a shitty voice would do. I made it sexy. I started moving around, swinging my hips back and forth, dancing like I was balancing bananas on my head. I really had no talent for dancing, either. The crowd went wild when I started swaying. My shots hit after a minute or so and I began to really belt it out, trying to win them over. I had a crowd of guys follow me as I stepped over the tip jar and made my way around the bar. I sang the last thirty seconds to Spencer, who was smiling so broadly at me his whole face lit up. He chuckled as I imitated the voice squeak at the end of the song. I jumped onto him and handed the mic back to the bitch bartender.
“That really was the worst thing I have ever heard. You sounded like a dying Jonathan.”
I laughed as he let me down and I looked to Rory who seemed to be messing with her camera and gave me the thumbs up. Ellie was pulled up next and started belting out Joan Jett. Ellie was on a bar, in New Orleans, singing. What a different damn world we had entered. When Ellie’s song was over, she was held up by waiting admirers. Jack and Amy had managed to find a table covered in used glasses and we all gathered around sipping our drinks. Jack refused to let Amy out of his sight unless she had to use the bathroom. Even then he watched like a hawk. Amy would be having a good night. I laughed as Rory and
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