Bridge Over Troubled Karaoke

Note: While I wrote this like I was going to do it as a stand up comedy routine... Every event herein is gospel truth just as it happened.

BRIDGE WEEK AND SILENT KARAOKE

9/18/2018

Andrew C. McDonald

As I was considering going on this show, I was wondering WHAT in my life could have possibly PREPARED ME TO STAND HERE and do … well, … this. No, not open mike night at the comedy club or weekend binging ON CLASSIC SNL. However; I will admit to being the “FUNNY UNCLE” AT A FEW FAMILY REUNIONS. The answer – KARAOKE. My brother in law and his FRIEND, a young man by the name of Scott - were down visiting a number of years back, so the wife and I called up the uncle-in-law and his life partner and we all went to a local bar where they did karaoke. Now, ALL WEEK long my brother in law’s FRIEND had been telling us what a BANG UP YOU JUST GOTTA HEAR IT TO BELIEVE IT JOB he could do on “BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER” … So here we are at this little almost redneck bar called Shady Oaks Bar and Lounge (REAL PLACE… HOLLLLLLEEERRRR) where we are anxiously awaiting this beautiful rendition of Simon and Garfunkel for the ages. Scott, that was the boyfriend, gets up there and starts SINGING HIS POOR HEART OUT. Well, suffice to say, THAT BRIDGE WAS DEFINITELY IN TROUBLED WATERS. Wow. … Now about halfway through this … for lack of a better word ... “PERFORMANCE”, my skinny, not so bright, brother in law decides he has to save his friend from crashing and burning. Jack III, half-brother of my other brother-in-law Jack Jr. - my father in law, jack, rest his soul, was a true original when it came to names - walks up there, picks up the 2nd mike, and joins in. Now, this sounds like two tomcats with their tails caught in the dumpster lid while they try to get to that expired tuna. But … I’d been waiting a week, chomping at the bit, to hear Scott sing Bridge Over Troubled Water. I looked at my wife, her uncle, and his partner… also named Scott… Oh Hell No! This is not happening! I got up, walked up to the clear area in front of the karaoke guy where these two were CATERWAULING ABOUT WHEN DARKNESS FALLS, AND PAIN IS ALL AROUND … well, I could feel that! But, I had waited a freakin’ week so… I walked up there, took the microphone out of Jack’s hand, set it down on the little table by Mr. Karaoke, MIKE DROP! took Jack by the shoulders, up here since I’m a tad short and he’s rather lanky [[raise hands to above shoulder height]], and walked him back to his seat. Luckily for me, SIMON DIDN’T GARFUNKEL ALL OVER ME. By the way, that was also my first true experience doing stand up for a crowd. Let me tell you, that little skit got some laughs.

Now, mind you, the guy running the karaoke that night … and he’s the only one I’ve ever known to do this … made CD’S OF EVERY PERFORMANCE that he would give to those souls brave enough to get up there. Souveniers of either your greatest triumph or your worst crash and burn. So, AFTER THE TROUBLED WATERS HAD STILLED, I got up there with Scott, Jack’s Scott, not the Uncle’s Scott, and we did a duet of John Denver’s COUNTRY ROADS. Then I did a solo performance of LINDA ON MY MIND by Conway Twitty. When the night was over I took my CD. In the car I stuck that puppy into the player. Believe me, when I heard those renditions they brought TEARS TO MY EYES. They also came close to making MY EARS BLEED. At this point I was certain of a couple of things besides, SCOTT CAN’T SING BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER: I was certain that, despite those who were even less musically inclined than myself, most patrons of the Shady Oaks Bar & Lounge that night had been WISHING THOSE COUNTRY ROADS HAD TAKEN ME HOME INSTEAD OF OUT TO KARAOKE. ALSO; LINDA WASN’T GOING TO HAVE ME ON HER MIND TONIGHT UNLESS IT WAS IN AN AUDITORY NIGHTMARE. It’s a world of difference sitting back and listening to a CD than it is singing. You don’t really hear yourself when you sing. Trust me, I have many friends who still, despite any recordings, think they can sing like a nightingale. Most of them should ONLY SING AT NIGHT DURING A GALE. Preferably in a clearing in the middle of a deserted cornfield. I’d go out in the woods but I hate to endanger the wildlife. There are organizations that take exception to that. Most of those are government funded and they don’t play around. Remember: Only you can prevent Noise Pollution. I made myself a pact at that point… Just like a Boy Named Sue: I’d SEARCH THOSE KARAOKE LOUNGES AND BARS AND THANK THAT MAN WHO GAVE ME THAT AWFUL CD. From now on I don’t sing in public. Instead … I talk. Instead of “DREAM ON, DREAM ON, DREAM ON…” I GO WITH “MY DADDY LEFT HOME WHEN I WAS THREE …” I can talk a mean song. Thank the lord for Johnny’s Cash and his penchant for writing story poems as well as songs. [[That man had his One Direction, knew how to go down a BacK Street with the Boys, and was truly In Sync with his own vibe.]]

By the way, I still have that CD today. Here it is.

I’m Andrew McDonald and you’ve been great. Thank you.

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Thanks for reading. :-)