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Back in the Saddle Again, Pt. I

© Hilary Williams

Last week, one of my best girlfriends called me from across the country. She was on her cellphone, sitting in the karaoke bar where her husband tends bar. As we talked, I could hear a few singers in the background. My husband came home from work to find me singing into the phone with my friend to Sir Mix-a-Lot's "Baby Got Back." After he slowly backed out of the room in horror, I got to listen as my friend took her turn singing Alanis Morissette's "You Oughta Know."

That's it, I thought. I've got to end this karaoke drought, now!!! Hearing my friend having so much fun made me long for the good old days back in St. Louis, when I went to my favorite hole-in-the-wall and sang my little heart out every week, courtesy of the KJs with Wild Times Karaoke, as well as a few others. So, I started an extensive search, hitting all of the avenues I mentioned in a previous article. After several stabs, I finally located a place that was fairly nearby, with karaoke on a night my husband didn't have to work.

Because of the transitive nature of many karaoke shows, it is always best to call ahead to be sure a show is still scheduled for the nights advertised. A quick attempt to dial the number provided by Karaokepittsburgh.com proved futile, as it was misprinted. Hmm ... this doesn't bode well. Not yet ready to admit defeat, I looked up the bar in the Yellow Pages, and got the correct number.

I gave them a ring, and, sure enough, there was karaoke scheduled for Sunday night. I also made sure to check on wheelchair access, as my husband and I both use motorized wheelchairs. They said they were accessible; they were mostly correct. More on that later.

I wanted to get there early so we could be sure to get a good table, and to ensure I got to sing as much as possible. I had two years of pent-up singing waiting to get out! Of course, I left half an hour after I intended, but I still made it with a few minutes to spare.

When we pulled up outside the Carrousel Steak & Rib House, my husband pointed out the next ominous sign, literally: there was a For Sale sign out front. Uh, oh. The last thing I want is to find a new show I like, only to have it disappear a month later when the bar closes. Also, although I was told there was wheelchair access, there was no discernible handicapped parking. Fortunately, we found a usable spot, and there were no steps to enter the establishment.