My family and I walked into the karaoke bar at the resort ready to dazzle the onlookers. What we found was a gaggle of girl children, who claimed to be Girl Scout Troop 69375643&76, hogging the mike and singing every Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber song known to man. Which would have been alright except that they were hitting pitches that would cause a canine unit to file a complaint with PETA. But even though the listing on the activity sheet clearly said Adult Karaoke, the pre-teen sensations seemed to be having a great time, so we filled out our request sheet and waited our turn.
About a half a dozen sappy love songs later, Callie and I performed our duet and accepted the applause and adoration from those still wearing retainers and training bras. As we were exiting stage left and smiling for the cameras, a group of frat boys walked in on a babysitting nightmare.
Talk about a Kodak moment. As soon as they saw the mass of screaming girls, their expressions went from confusion to annoyance. They had sauntered in for a beer and found themselves in the middle of a slumber party. How in the world were they supposed to pick up chicks when so few of the females in attendance even had a driver’s license? Were they supposed to offer to buy them a Hawaiian Punch? These shrieking singers were probably out past curfew as it was.
Luckily for them, one of the troop leaders saw this mass of masculinity and rushed to the rescue. She strolled over, pulled out a bar stool for her 40 year old behind, and began flirting with men almost half her age. I guess someone’s a fan of Cougar Town.
I leaned over to Callie and said, “I bet her daughter’s dying.”
Callie nodded. “I can just hear it: ‘Please don’t date him, Mommy; he’s only 5 years older than I am.'”
We laughed and stayed just long enough to hear one of the college boys sing an ode to his draft beer: Draft beer, you’re a fine girl, what a good wife you would be . . .
As we walked to the car, I said, “So we got to sing karaoke with Girls Scouts and frat boys. Interesting night.”
Blake returned, “Yeah, it’s not often you see those two at the same bar.”
“Unless it’s cookie season,” Callie added.
Indeed. It’s a shame we didn’t come out of that deal with a box of Samoas and Thin Mints. It almost would have made up for the screaming.
© 2013 – Traci Carver