There are some moments in life when you have to step back and ask yourself, “How did I end up in a John Waters movie?” You look around trying to find the hidden cameras and equipment and expect to hear the director yell “Cut” at any minute. Strangely enough, they tend to be those entirely unscripted, unplanned moments that you couldn’t arrange if you tried. When that happens to me, I LOVE IT.
So, Sunday night I took a date to my favorite sushi restaurant. Over time I have gotten to know the owners, who happen to be Korean. When I’m there I get that kind of personal attention that money really can’t buy. I never have to see a menu. The chef just prepares dishes, both sushi and sometimes special Korean delicacies. (Don’t knock the fish bones till you try ‘em and the spicy tuna salad was absolutely divine). It’s wonderful every time. Anyway, by 9pm we had the place to ourselves and we were doing saki-bombs with the sushi guys. Suddenly the owner suggested we go with them to do Karaoke. Being equally adventurous, my date and I immediately agreed. After kidnapping Ray and enjoying another round of saki-bombs we headed down to their friends’ Korean restaurant/Karaoke bar.
Koreans do Karaoke differently. We (there were 7 of us, 8 by the end of the night) were led into a private room with big plush leather sofas, a large table loaded with more culinary delights, buckets of beer, a big TV screen, two microphones and a tambourine. Apparently the Koreans understand that most people don’t want to hear YOU and YOUR FRIENDS sing in public. That is a special torture reserved for private sessions only. As anyone who has ever heard me sing can attest, I can’t carry a tune on a forklift, yet after hearing Lionel Ritchie’s “Herro” (that’s “Hello” in Asian), even I felt like a Rock Star. We sang, laughed, danced and dined into the wee hours of the morning.
I might be mistaken, but I vaguely remember, as I pulled into my home (at a decidedly ungodly hour) the faint echo resounding, “That’s a wrap!”