“I am alone. I am utterly alone. How did I get up here in
front of hundreds of bar goers singing “Bye Bye Miss American Pie” at karaoke
night alone?” I was screaming this in my head as I was trying to belt out yet
another stanza during the longest song in the world. You know those nightmares you have about being
naked? That is how I felt that night in New York City during an evening out
after attending a business conference all day.
The ring leader of the group, a fiery beautiful redhead, had suggested
it. Of course she did, because she could sing and be the star. I did not know
this woman before the conference, but now, five years later, I have gotten to
see her rising star in social media. Back
then we were still on a rather level playing field. Or so I thought.
It started out with a group of women from different regions
of the country coming together to meet in person after developing friendships
on social media. We greeted each other with hugs and laughs and then the sizing
up started. By lunch time, I had been relegated to the “support for the
industry and not the leader” in the group. But I didn’t care, as I enjoyed my
support role in marketing and PR and I was just damn happy to be in New York
City, learning more about social media, without the responsibilities of family.
However, I was there alone and clearly, by lunch, I knew my next best friend
was not in the group.
A few men decided to join us after dinner and the plan to go
to a bar off of Broadway for karaoke night was hatched. I was game, as it’s
always fun to sing in a bar with a group of people. A GROUP of people. The
ladies started putting their names in for various songs while I sat back with
my glass of chardonnay enjoying the atmosphere of the joint. The redhead was an
amazing singer and she soaked up the spotlight. Then someone asked me what I
was going to sing. I wasn’t going to sing anything, I thought, since I firmly
believe I am a backup singer at best or a song leader, like my days in the
sorority at college. A cheerleader for music, you could say, but not the main
attraction. So, the men we were with really started goading me into doing
SOMETHING, so I suggested a group song that the entire bar could sing along
with. And Don Mclean’s anthem to the past was a good choice for a group sing
along, or so I thought.
The MC called my name and I was giddily pushed to the stage
by these new social media friends of mine. The music started, “Long long time
ago,,,” and then I realized that NO ONE was singing along with me. I kept
going. God help me, I kept going. I was thinking, “Surely, the whole bar will
jump in when it gets to the “So, bye bye, Miss American Pie” part. Oh no. Those
rat bastards did not raise their voices to help the poor struggling soul in the
middle of the spotlight on Broadway. I looked imploringly to my group of people
and saw the “What the hell!?” look on their faces. I refused to quit and walk
off that stage. So, I kept going.
Painful is a word you may use for the last leg of an Ironman.
Or childbirth or setting a broken leg. But what I experienced up there,
warbling at a TV screen on the wall, while hundreds of drunk people were
wishing I would shut up and get off that stage is whole new world of what pain
feels like. Finally, an actually musically talented man jumped in to save me.
He stood next to me and we hammered out those last two stanzas together. And
for a moment, it was fun. And I could breathe. I thanked him profusely as I
left that stage and I approached the group of my new friends. The shock and
dismay on their faces was evident. I had embarrassed myself to such a degree
that I had sunk to a level of social low that there was no recovery. The red
head suggested that it was time to hit the next bar down the street and as they
hurriedly walked away, I realized I was shunned.
Alone in New York City, I walked towards Times Square
feeling pretty shitty. There is a reason that being shunned was the ultimate
punishment for rule breakers in the Native American tribes. I got to Times
Square, and looked up at the crystal ball that rings in the New Year. The
decorations were still up, as it was January. I felt the crisp air on my face,
a rather new sensation after spending a few years in Kona’s warm weather. I
thought of my friends on the island and what they would think of me if they had
been there. Then I envisioned them singing along with me and I felt better.
I wasn’t going to waste precious time, standing in one of
the most iconic places in the world, feeling sorry for myself. I asked a
tourist to take a photo of me with my arms outstretched in the middle of Times
Square. As she snapped the photo, which I have on my shelf to this day, I was
thinking, “I did it. I got here to New York City. I survived a horrible trial
by fire socially and dammit, I sang on Broadway”. Then I walked back to my
hotel, alone, but with my head held high.
