“I thought Wednesday was the new Thursday, where is everyone?”
“No, Monday is the new Thursday; no one goes out on Wednesday.”
Dave and I are wandering the streets of Manhattan desperately in search of a decently populated bar. On the plus side, the walk is probably doing us some good considering our overstuffed stomachs, courtesy of the 4 courses of dessert served up at the French restaurant where we had dinner. Not conducive to this long walk all over the city is our current attire of suits and dress shoes.
We’ve all but given up on the night save for the one remaining bar between us and the subway stop that will take us back home. Our spirits low, we step into this last chance watering hole and come face to face with Karaoke Night in full effect. Given the choice between bad singing and calling the night prematurely, we decide to stick it out.
The liquid courage takes a hold of Dave a lot sooner than it does me and before I know it, he’s on stage belting out a solid rendition of Radiohead’s Creep. As soon as he gets back to our seats the badgering begins: “Dude, you gotta go up there and sing a song…C’mon, I did it and we’re not leaving until you get up there…Here’s the song book, just pick one.”
Knowing that I need to come up with something to subdue Dave’s onslaught of ‘encouragement,’ I offer the following compromise: “alright, there’s this Australian folk song that I know. If they have it, I’ll sing it.”
Fairly confident that the masses will be spared my singing, I take a look in the song book under “T”.
Take On Me
Thank God I’m a Country Boy
And then, there it is: Tie Me Kangaroo Down Sport by Rolf Harris. Uh-oh.
True to my word, I submit my song request and warm up by ordering another round.
Thirty minutes later, I am summoned to the stage where I take the mike and with my best Australian inflection say, “alright, this here’s an oldie where I come from, I hope you all enjoy it. Here we go…” and proceed to sing the entire song in a thick Aussie accent.
“Is that right? How do you know the song?” I carry on in my new accent.
“I’m from Sydney…”
I continue to have a 5-10 minute conversation with this person, upholding that I am from Oz the entire time and I just moved to the States about a year previous. I don’t know what came over me, but at that moment I was Australian.
* - From Wikipedia: “The fourth verse was removed circa 1960,
because of its use of the word Abo, a now offensive slang term for
Australian Aborigines, and because of its implied racist context…”