If there ever was a moment where I wished I had a video camera, last night was it. I'm not sure how the quality would've turned out in a dimly lit bar filled with the lingering exhalation from a rowdy group of chain smokers, but I'm telling you the humor would've translated even with the poorest of visuals.
Jerry opted to go out with a few friends after work, so when I finished earlier than usual, I called and asked if he would mind a little company. The guys always go to their crappy hometown bar that is situated on an unassuming corner with a tiny gravel parking lot. The structure looks like a large double wide without windows, decorated with an occasional neon beer logo. It's called "Coaches," but most people call it "Roaches." And that nickname is about the best description I can give it and its typical clientele. But, oh, I love it so.
I got there a few rounds in, so everybody was overly enthusiastic to see me. Moments after saying hello to Jerry, someone on a microphone called his name. So he kissed me on the cheek and said he'd be right back.
Apparently it was karaoke night.
Never one to shy away from a microphone, I should've known what we were all in store for. But not even being with Jerry for the last three years could've prepared me for this.
He greeted the bar, which was fairly crowded even for a Friday night, took off his hoodie in a rockstar fashion by flinging it around his head and shooting it to a nearby chair. Then he dedicated his song, "Eye of the Tiger," to Rocky. And, incidentally, he just happened to be wearing his Rocky shirt and displayed it proudly.
When the song started with its succession of three beats, he threw up his arms and pounded his fists to the music. By the time the underlying beat joined in, he was full-out dancing and encouraging the crowd to clap along.
Although Jerry has an awesome voice, he mostly rocked out, screaming his way through the lower notes and laughing through the falsettos. He thrusted. He pumped his fists. He jumped. He clapped. He spun. He even allowed the toothless man at the end of the bar to jokingly molest his chest.
And while I was too busy trying to breathe from the sheer hilarity and shock of it all, the rest of the bar went crazy.
I couldn't take my eyes off of him and the spectacle that ensued. It might've been the funniest thing I've ever seen in my entire life. Better than the time I watched one of my friends shoot guacamole out of his nose at Taco Bell when we were in junior high.
By the time Jerry was finished, the bar was cheering wildly, and I even watched as a girl walked up and hit on him. But, hey, who can blame her? After that outlandish performance, he could've used that microphone to propose to any girl in the place and none of them could've possibly said no -- including me if we weren't already married. But we are. So it was awesome watching him brush her off immediately and walk over to me.
He was winded and grinning wildly as he put his hoodie back on.
"So? What'd ya think?"
"I think I'm an idiot."
"I was so paralyzed with laughter and busy wishing that I had a video camera, that I forgot about my regular camera."
"Probably better that way."
"YouTube couldn't handle this."