THE SHOUT HOUSE
Yet another birthday. And this time I was prepared. Or so I thought. (I had remembered to carry my credit card).
I was told that we were going to a place that had “dueling pianos”. Visions of elegantly clad men and women with wine glasses, soft muted lights, listening to classical piano music flashed across my mind.
For once, I truly regretted being such a tomboy. I don’t think I have ever owned a truly feminine dress in my life. Sighing at my lack of pretty dresses, I chose to wear a long black skirt with a knit black and white top, all the while hoping that I would not be turned back at the door for being so casually dressed.
I stepped out into the living room to find a decent pair of sandals to go with the outfit. Did I even own one? “D” took one look at me and stated, “Sam, you are overdressed.” What? Did I hear him right? Umm, so “D”, what kind of place are we going to? “To a bar.” (As if that explained everything). Back I went, to change into my usual uniform of jeans. I went back to D with another question. Would I look like a complete idiot if I drank water in a bar? Thankfully the answer was no. Phew!!!
C’s cousin, “E” turned 21 on Nov 2nd. A very important age in the US, coz you can henceforth drink legally. Is this state specific? I never did find out.
She was a pretty girl with dark, natural corkscrew curls. I have never seen hair so naturally pretty. The key word here is “natural”. She was a vision in an electric blue spaghetti top and jeans with blue velvet Indian jhooties.
We went into the bar and I was duly stamped on the inside of my left wrist. I felt like I was being stamped before I entered the gas chamber. The stamp was a five pointed star by the way. This was a week day and the bar was supposedly empty, though I could not spot a single empty chair.
The bar was around a raised platform which had two pianos placed together and there were two singers. You could request your favorite songs which would then be played on the pianos. And all the while that I was there, there were no dearth of requests and the music was continuous without a break. It was a complete antithesis of what I had imagined. The music was foot tapping, earthy, raucous, loud, and accompanied by loud catcalls.
The favorite song seemed to be the one that had a chorus that went, “It’s a fine time to leave me Lucille; you b***h, you s**t, you w***e!!!! And everyone would point fingers at whoever was on the dais at the time.
There were at least three birthdays. The birthday gals (all three were girls by the way) got to sit on top of the pianos while the songs requested for them were being played. Once done, they got bumper stickers with the words “The Shout House” stuck across their fannies for their trouble.
“E” went up when it was her turn. An extremely raunchy number was played. I shall not put down the words of the song in deference to my young readers. Suffice to say it was enough to turn anyone beet red. And to top it all, a young male volunteer from the crowd did a lap dance for her. Since I have never had the occasion to see one, I found the whole performance entertaining. That was one sporting volunteer.
Poor “E” came off the dais after she got her bumper sticker, and was almost on the verge of tears much to D’s consternation. He had requested for a song, but not the particular one the pianists chose to play. Peace was restored by the promise of an extra drink at D’s expense.
We had to leave early since all of us had to go to work the next day. I gave “E” a hug and wished her a very happy birthday again. As I left, I admired the young girl’s grit. Not once did she break down in front of all those people. She kept smiling through the entire performance even though it was obvious to everyone she was very uncomfortable. I was told that she was brought up in an extremely strict environment where the mere mention of the words booze or sex was taboo. So you had to admire that kind of poise in one so young. You are going to be one heck of a woman “E”.
I was told that we were going to a place that had “dueling pianos”. Visions of elegantly clad men and women with wine glasses, soft muted lights, listening to classical piano music flashed across my mind.
For once, I truly regretted being such a tomboy. I don’t think I have ever owned a truly feminine dress in my life. Sighing at my lack of pretty dresses, I chose to wear a long black skirt with a knit black and white top, all the while hoping that I would not be turned back at the door for being so casually dressed.
I stepped out into the living room to find a decent pair of sandals to go with the outfit. Did I even own one? “D” took one look at me and stated, “Sam, you are overdressed.” What? Did I hear him right? Umm, so “D”, what kind of place are we going to? “To a bar.” (As if that explained everything). Back I went, to change into my usual uniform of jeans. I went back to D with another question. Would I look like a complete idiot if I drank water in a bar? Thankfully the answer was no. Phew!!!
C’s cousin, “E” turned 21 on Nov 2nd. A very important age in the US, coz you can henceforth drink legally. Is this state specific? I never did find out.
She was a pretty girl with dark, natural corkscrew curls. I have never seen hair so naturally pretty. The key word here is “natural”. She was a vision in an electric blue spaghetti top and jeans with blue velvet Indian jhooties.
We went into the bar and I was duly stamped on the inside of my left wrist. I felt like I was being stamped before I entered the gas chamber. The stamp was a five pointed star by the way. This was a week day and the bar was supposedly empty, though I could not spot a single empty chair.
The bar was around a raised platform which had two pianos placed together and there were two singers. You could request your favorite songs which would then be played on the pianos. And all the while that I was there, there were no dearth of requests and the music was continuous without a break. It was a complete antithesis of what I had imagined. The music was foot tapping, earthy, raucous, loud, and accompanied by loud catcalls.
The favorite song seemed to be the one that had a chorus that went, “It’s a fine time to leave me Lucille; you b***h, you s**t, you w***e!!!! And everyone would point fingers at whoever was on the dais at the time.
There were at least three birthdays. The birthday gals (all three were girls by the way) got to sit on top of the pianos while the songs requested for them were being played. Once done, they got bumper stickers with the words “The Shout House” stuck across their fannies for their trouble.
“E” went up when it was her turn. An extremely raunchy number was played. I shall not put down the words of the song in deference to my young readers. Suffice to say it was enough to turn anyone beet red. And to top it all, a young male volunteer from the crowd did a lap dance for her. Since I have never had the occasion to see one, I found the whole performance entertaining. That was one sporting volunteer.
Poor “E” came off the dais after she got her bumper sticker, and was almost on the verge of tears much to D’s consternation. He had requested for a song, but not the particular one the pianists chose to play. Peace was restored by the promise of an extra drink at D’s expense.
We had to leave early since all of us had to go to work the next day. I gave “E” a hug and wished her a very happy birthday again. As I left, I admired the young girl’s grit. Not once did she break down in front of all those people. She kept smiling through the entire performance even though it was obvious to everyone she was very uncomfortable. I was told that she was brought up in an extremely strict environment where the mere mention of the words booze or sex was taboo. So you had to admire that kind of poise in one so young. You are going to be one heck of a woman “E”.
posted by newatthis at 3:07 PM
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