matt foley "living in a div down by the navmenu" dept
(c)opyleft
1995-2008
Matthew Lewis
Carroll Smith
Vic's 1996
<<< Matthew Avoids Karaoke
Matthew goes to rough-and-tumble Karaoke bar with his current flame, Ali. There is no way he's going to get up and sing. Ali wheedles him for a bit and then gives up. He sits with his back glued to a wall while she belts out "Chain, chain, chaye-eee-aaa-eee-aaain!" In the darkness someone puts a bottle of beer in his hand which makes him feel better; the broken neck of a beer bottle can make a handy weapon. (Barfighting Tip #12: Never use a Zima bottle; they are too short.) >>>- From An Imaginary Quest Tale
In December I began dating a
nice woman named Ali, who works as a promotions producer for one of the local
TV stations. She likes to talk shop, which is cool. She has to explain
everything to me because I don't own a TV. I take perverse pleasure in giving
her an uncomprehending blank stare when she starts saying, 'did you see the
story we did...' She thinks it's funny that I don't own a TV or even a
telephone. I call it sanity.
Ali is from Arkansas and, thank God, it doesn't show that much. But her friends are, um, 'neckline la rouge.' At one point I am sitting a bar named Vic's listening to a product of questionable genetics mangle some pop song on a Karaoke machine. How the hell did I get here?
I could sum it all up in a few words, but it would be like the pilot of the Enola Gay saying, 'We dropped the bomb and it went off.' Not very satisfying. Somebody Up There got a big laugh the night Ali asked me what I wanted to do and I said, 'whatever you want to do.'
You see, Ali is an amateur singer. She has participated in quite a few community theater musicals in her 20's when she lived in Little Rock and Fort Smith. She has an incredible 5 octave range and she loves to sing Patsy Cline and Billie Holiday. Sometimes she starts singing as we are driving around; the windows start rattling, the glovebox pops open, and I get a little more deaf - but it is magical! Singing makes her happy. But she has to have a place to sing, dig? That's where Vic's comes in.
Ali has only lived in Memphis for a year and a half. In that short time she was befriended by some of her coworkers who took her to Vic's when they found out that she likes to sing: Vic's has a Karaoke machine. She is quite a hit at Vic's, probably because no one came even come close to her in vocal talent. That, and because she's a nice person, of course.
So on that fateful night, Ali suggests we go to Vic's and I happily agree. She had already fed me a few salient details about Vic's, so I know to ditch the earring and put on my cowboy boots. I practice saying 'yep' and 'nope' in the car as we head to the blue collar side of town.
At Vic's everyone knows Ali and they line up to say hello and hug her. She introduces to me to everybody. The women are civil and the men are giving me the look reserved for strangers; the one that says, 'I bet yer testicles are as small as peanuts.' I smile and calculate the distance to the nearest pool cue in case a fight breaks out. After about 15 minutes most of the men get tired of brow beating me and they leave me alone.
'Have you dated any of the guys here,' I whisper to Ali. She rolls her eyes, 'are you kidding?' She laughs.
I am repelled yet strangely attracted to these people. They are the blue collar salt of the earth. (All that salt must make them very thirsty because they drink ahelluva lot of beer.) The men tend to run towards the scruffy side of things; cowboy hats, down vests, and a slack jawed vacant stares. The women all look like they work as waitresses in a truck stop; low cut stained t-shirts revealing dubious feminine charms.
I may sneer but I have no right to. Since I have preached multi-cultural tolerance for most of my life I can't hold it against them because they come from a different economic background. I try to relax and play tourist.
Meanwhile a spotty youth has grabbed the microphone and is belting out:
I'm a cowboy
on a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted
dead or alive
dead or alive
dead or alive
'Yeah dead, definitely dead,' I murmur to myself in my best Rainman impression.
After a few more encounters with the denizen of Vic's I see there are some diamonds in the rough. One guy and his wife are emergency foster parents - they care for abused children until the courts can decide what to do with them. A few people are nurses and paramedics - they like helping people and have compassion (which may make up for their lack of fashion sense).
Still, I wouldn't want my
sister to marry one.
it pays the bills dept
here is something I hope is doing no evil.
could be worse dept
there could be more of them