Opening item to happen there: KC is an Indians fan and the first thing we see on TV is the 2 players he complains about the most- Michael Bourn and Nick Swisher- got sent, with $10 million to pay their next years' salary, to Atlanta for a dude hitting .235 playing a position they don't need. Nothing says love like...
So then we played some pool. amazingly splitting a pair of games (I only play good pool between a beer-and-a-half and 3 beers, and I won during the 3rd one.) Then KC played against a couple of guys that worked there, which was fun because the one guy was a Tigers fan (whom KC hates) and the other was a New England Patriots fan (whom everybody hates). After that, we left and I suggested we go get some burgers. We decided on Wrigley Field Bar and Grill.
We scored a table up front with a dude that KC knows from everywhere called "the Silver Bullet" (he has long silver-gray hair). They were doing Karaoke and a giveaway from the local ESPN radio station, and locally known celebrity and drunk driver Billy Elvis was hosting. I ordered a couple cheeseburgers (which the waitress wrote down as one) and KC got what appeared to be a cheese toastie, and ordered us a bucket of Coors Light. As the night wore on, I got 1) the old feel to go a-singing again, 2) the second cheeseburger which I told the waitress not to worry about and KC told her to go fetch, and 3) the urge for a duck fart shot. By the time the second cheeseburger was gone, I had my second of three duck farts, my name was in for a song, and KC was waxing philosophical on Big Papi and whoo-hooing songs he'd never heard before.
|Yer basic duck fart: Kaluha, Bailey's and Crown Royal.|
The bar was also featuring a group of bikers from Honor Flight, and at one point Billy Elvis pointed to the biggest of them, a guy called Sumo, and said he was about to sing, "I Am Woman, hear me roar." Sumo laughed and said he didn't know the song.
One of the nice things about Karaokeing in this town, there's a certain down's syndrome gentleman who likes to sing. He basically turns the songs into spoken word, but everyone sings along and he has a great time. He did Sherry, and I learned that KC can actually do the falsetto notes quite well.
As the third and final duck fart arrived, the guy just before me came up. His song was Lou Rawls' You'll Never Find Another Love Like Mine. Before he started, he told me I was too young to remember disco. Imagine that! Then he got singing, and let me tell you, he nailed it as no song has been nailed before! It was tremendous- and then I had to follow him.
I did the Guess Who's No Sugar Tonight/New Mother Nature, and despite starting a bit early, I did okay. KC thought it was great and got everybody clapping along. We left a little afterwards, and one of the singers asked me if I was going to sing again, so either I did pretty good or he was making his exit plans.
So after evading a fellow intoxicant begging cigarettes, we took off for what I thought was home. Instead, KC decided to stop at his place to grab some more beers to bring over (which sat untouched in two different locations of my place until I got up this morning). As with many a bachelor pad, it was a bit disheveled, but the thing that amused me were the plethora of empty Pepsi cans I spotted. One on his couch fold out, one on the floor about five feet in front of it. One in his bedroom, another one along the wall, and the one I decided to take a picture of, resting on his window sill.
|It would be the dark object seemingly being used to hold everything up.|
"Hey, dude, the games over, change to another game."
"All in good time..." he muttered, and after about five more minutes he changed the channel. It was the last I heard from him. Laurie was home by then, and she says that after I went to bed, she finally woke him up when she accidentally dropped a plastic mug from its shelf, and he meandered on home.