Karaoke

Never gets old. There are a few karaoke places near my apartment, and we shopped around a bit for the one we like. The one we went to last time mysteriously went out of business, so it was just a big glass window with an empty space inside, with nothing left but a dusty table with a huge (gallon) empty bottle of Jack Daniels. It was a sad sight. So we went to the one next door and we were led to a small room with race car wallpaper and red couches. We thought we'd get our motorbike helmets to really get into character. Then the waiter said it was a two dish minimum. We came to sing! Not to eat! Who wants to do karaoke while eating anyway? We left. One last chance, and we found a good, but plain little place. They had decent (farang) music. We belted straight for two hours. My voice was shattered. We danced the whole time too, and our feet were sore. The servers kept walking by our little booth to peek in at what nonsense we were up to every few minutes. We'd wave through the little window and they'd duck away. Walking out, exhausted, we peeked in other rooms and everyone else was sitting looking half conscious, how boring. They were probably having a crappy time because they were stuck next to our obnoxious booth.