|A wrenching experience|
One thing I like to do when in Sin City is sing, and that means Kar-A-Oke (as opposed to a singing Okie, which I'm not). Somethng about the glitz of the city makes even the smallest karaoke dive seem special - I can actually fool myself into thinking I Made It. Plus, I meet a lot of nice folks.
So, Wednesday night we go out to get a bite to eat and end up (after a little brush with the ultra-fancy B&B's) at Battista's. If you like Italian, I highly recommend it. It's pricey (it averages about 30 bucks a person), but you get a complete Italian dinner. It's also a real "joint" as in a Fun Place. This is the kind of eatery where your folks and relatives like to eat and have a good time: small booths and tables and bric-a-brac all over the place, menu on the walls, autographed pictures, that kind of thing. And the house vino is great.
Anyway, the upshot was that it's popular and we didn't get there all that early, so we had to wait for a while, which means we didn't get to Ellis Island (My karaoke place from two years ago ) until about 10. The list was kind of long, so I said the hell with it and we left - not after making some coin on their big Wheel of Fortune machine, though.
SO, fast-forward to Thursday. We just get out of the early performance of Jersey Boys (an excellent show, BTW - I highly recommend it) and we're looking for something to do. In the room, I hop on the Net, find out that Dino's Place up the Strip is doing karaoke tonight so I change my shoes and we go.
Dino's Place is a bar up north Strip. Typical bar set-up, pool tables in the back, stage for live performances, regular clientele, the usual. I feel at home already. I give my name and selections to the KJ and order drinks, margarita for Becky and Meyer's Dark and Coke for me. About Drink #3, we strike up a conversation with a youngish gal, who think Becky's "fantastic - and so are you" referring to me and my Golden Tonsils.
Meanwhile, the KJ (after my lament that I can never find certain songs I want to sing) showed me another songbook he had, one that had titles but no disc numbers. I asked him where the numbers were and he says "that's okay - just write the title down." I perused the book and was astonished to find a lot of songs I couldn't find elsewhere. After picking out and singing Artificial Flowers, I asked him where he got these. He replied (in a guarded monotone) "sorry, I can't tell you..."
Meanwhile, a couple are taking Becky up and I came back for more booze. Becky herself was buzzed, but coherent - not so with me. I was on R&C #5 and I was flyin' (except onstage - when I sing, I'm stone-cold sober - actor's training). I'm totally oblivious to what Becky and them are talking about.
As the night wears on, we split, me vowing to come back tomorrow night (we never made it). In the car on the way back, Becky was happy and I was feeling no pain. After realizing she was jovial over something other than the alcohol, I asked her what's up. "You didn't notice what happened back there?" I answered in the negative. "I was being hit on by a lesbian and another couple." I blinked. "Really? Cool!"
"Cool? I thought you'd be upset because of what Anne did to you."
"Nah, " I said, attempting to right myself, "I got over that quite a while ago. I just like the idea that my wife can get someone of either sex. Kind of a thrill."
"You're not jealous?"
"Nope. I may be stinko, but I know that one, you don't go in for that stuff and two, I know who you're going home with." I said these things with a "come hither" look in my eyes, although Becky later said I looked like I was rolling them back into their sockets.
"You know what?", Becky said with a smile as we pulled into the Palazzo valet, "You're right."
That night we had a real good time with the lights out. My turn to make Becky sing, heh heh heh...