Addicted to Karaoke, But Not Really
By Michael J. Link - A Writer from Helium.com

It all started on a cold December day. It was the company Christmas party. I was the new guy. There were a lot of attractive women in the company and I was looking for a way to make an impression quick. They held the party at a ritzy country club in town. They had hired professional party throwers to get us drinking and then lead us in dancing, but neither one was my strong suit.

Then the lists started circulating around the room. Upon hearing that they were lists of songs for that new craze, karaoke, well, I’m sure some in attendance could actually see a light bulb appearing over my head. I figured either I could charm some ladies with my bravery and clumsiness or I could hit pay dirt and do well. If reality TV has taught us anything, it’s that how we perform in the shower and how wonderful our mothers tell us we are has little to do with how we perform in front of a crowd with a microphone in our hands. So, I did not know what to expect, but I was up for the challenge. As it turns out, only four of us got up to sing. I had the good fortune of following the two worst singers in the history of karaoke and, for that matter, the world. They shrieked through a song that was hard to understand when it was sung by professionals, “Louie, Louie”. When they got through with it, many questioned if they had just heard a foreign language version.

When they announced that I would be the first to follow them, my confidence soared. I rushed up there to begin the opening “whoah”s of Elvis’ “The Wonder of You” and the crowd erupted, probably relieved to hear any other sound than the cacophony we’d just endured. To my delight, the cheers continued as I got to actual words and I even survived an alternate wording than the one I was used to-- and received a rousing ovation at the end. It was thrilling. The next day, my supervisor told me that in the staff meeting that morning, the consensus was that the other two guys should not quit their day jobs but I actually could. The senior vice president’s very comely wife shouted “ELVIS” at me when she spotted me in the hall. The president of the company told me that when I started to sing, he had to look up to make sure I was really singing and not just mouthing along with the record. And, most importantly, I got my wish. I attracted the attention of and soon started dating some of the very attractive ladies in the company-- although, not the vice president’s wife.

It was a horrible thing to suddenly find myself an addict. After such a rush, I knew I must make karaoke an integral part of my life. Before long, I found that I could not make even a short drive down the road without scoping out the local signs to find out which venues offered a night behind the mike.

The craving followed me when I moved from New York to Florida and even became an international affair when I married a stunning Filipina. I thought marriage would help keep me distracted from my filthy habit. And then I discovered that there is nothing Filipinas enjoy more than a rousing night of karaoke. Many of my wife’s friends even have systems in their homes. It was like an alcoholic marrying Jim Beam’s daughter. My wife was an enabler.

Sadly or happily, depending on how you look at it, in the company of such seasoned performers, my talent is overshadowed and so the initial thrill is gone. I now only partake once in a while when my wife and her friends insist. It’s probably for the best. We have a little girl now and I wouldn’t want her to grow up with the pressure of a father who is a star and an addict, to boot.