It's official: I am no longer as young as I once was. I think, at least in the context of this story, that's probably a good thing:
A couple of nights ago, Alla and I went over to the Legion, a veteran's club that has karaeoke and VERY cheap drinks on Wednesday nights (3.25 for beer and highballs! Unheard of in Vancouver). The last time we went, we had a hilarious time meeting all the regulars who came up to say hi to us. One such regular, who claimed his name was "Roo", made an epic entrance on his motorized wheelchair, crashing so hard into the place that he burst a broom closet door open. The woman checking id's claimed that, like most Asians, he was a terrible driver. So you get a sense of the kind of place we were at.
A bit later on in the night, Roo appeared to be trying to get by our seats. We shuffled our chairs in to make room for him, but he just wheeled right up to our faces. "Hello."
"Hello!" we said, already giggling. "Are you single?" he asked. I told him no, that I was a big lesbian with a blonde girlfriend named Sarah.
He said, "I'm a drag queen you know."
"Cool!" I said. "That's nice."
"I won first place in the beauty contest."
We chatted about this for a bit, and he kept pushing me on the single/lesbian issue. He finally figured out that his penis was not something I was interested in. Having established this, he turned to Alla and poked her on the arm. "Are you single?" It was almost impossible to stop laughing. He went on to ask for our email addresses because he likes "to keep track of the women I hit on."
We finally got rid of him, and later in the night saw him hitting on one such woman, and standing up in his wheelchair! He didn't even need it, he was just using it to hit on women! Hilarious.
Anyway, that was last time. This time was similarly hilarious, but in a very different way. Alla, a few of her friends and I were sitting around, having a civilized drink, watching the ridiculous renditions of classic karaoke hits being butchered. Then we noticed two girls on the dance floor, both wearing denim short shorts and shirts that exposed their midriffs. One, actually, was wearing three shirts of different lengths, not one of which was long enough to cover her dangly belly button ring. We immediately determined them to be underagers, drinking at the Legion because who would check? THey proceeded to dance around awkwardly, sure they were the hottest little things in that place with their bellies and bums out. FInally, the moment came: the teen twins stepped up to the stage to sing their song. "Thish shong is dedicated to Shtuart," the twins slurred. "He's my best friend. He hash long hair, but he's not a girl, he just looksh like one." They then began to sing in a manner that was so drunken it was totally incomprehensible. We were laughing hysterically already, but it only got better: after humping each other for a bit trying to sing, they finally ended, and one of the two fell off the stage. The poor muffin face planted and then pranced away, not to be seen again.
The ridiculousness was certainly entertaining, but I came to a conclusion with was half relieving and half depressing: for the first time in my life, I was a spectator to that kind of antic, not a participant. I'm not sure I've ever faceplanted off a kareoke stage, but i've certainly made an ass of myself dancing with adandon in inappropriate outfits in my younger days. Suddenly I'm on the other side of it. At the very least, I do not envy Stuart, the best friend with the long hair who is certainly not getting laid, and will certainly have puke on his carpet in the morning.