On Saturday night, Darcy and I went to Karaoke in West Hartford.
Darcy really likes going to Karaoke with me, in part, because weird things tend to happen. Last time some aging frisky swingers approached, after my thrilling rendition of Possum Kingdom, and asked if I performed at any venues in CT. Odd? yes. But nothing could top this week’s weirdness.
After I sang Lights (Journey) and Virtual Insanity (Jamiroquai), an older man came up to our table. He held out his hand and introduced himself to me “Hi, I’m Al. People call me Frank.”
He wore a gawky 1996 Olympics windbreaker, a red baseball cap with unbent rim, shorts, bulky ill-fitting sneakers, and bright white socks which stretched up to his knees.
“I’m an agent” he continued and handed over his card
“I managed my brothers band when I was fifteen years old,” Al/Frank boasted
“oh?” I replied.
“You’ve got a good voice. But you need help picking songs. You’ve got to choose the song for your voice. The first song you did was good. The second one was a bad choice. That’s why I choose Frank Sinatra. Because it works with my voice.”
Aside: Al/Frank’s voice is not exactly well suited for Karaoke, let alone Sinatra
“Well, thanks” I replied awkwardly
“I saw you looking at the screens too. You have to memorize the words.”
“ahh,” I fumbled, “of course. of course.”
The conversation continued from there for far too many minutes. Eventually Al/Frank sat down. Shortly thereafter the Karaoke DJ announced “Next up is FRANK!”
Al/Frank didn’t move.
“FRANK! Frank’s up next!” the DJ looked directly at Al/Frank. “Frank!!”
“Frank is up!!” he tried again.
rolling his eyes the DJ gave it one more go “FRANK!! FRANK IS UP NEXT. FRANK!!”
“oh!” Al/Frank said startled and worked his way up to the microphone.
When we left for the night, Al/Frank was handing his card to another singer. Best of luck Al/Frank. Best of luck.