The Day the Music Choked on a Pickle & No one was Around to Heimlich.

This morning on my way into my building of work I passed a gentleman wearing black trousers and black silk shirt, a gold chain adorning his hairy neck and pointy leather loafers on his feet. He tossed his flaxen, feathered hair out of his tanned, wrinkled face. He nodded at me.

As I do not work on the set of “Scarface,” I was confused. Until I remembered: it’s karaoke day!

My building of work sponsors a yearly event to honour Valentine’s Day. It involves performing, karaoke-style, in the great hollow centre of the building, amongst the food-fair patrons, a song of your choice. (ideally a love song) Said song is recorded to CD, which is then given to you (ideally to gift your sweetheart with your dulcet tones) and you are admired by all your co-workers and random passers-by. At least I think that’s how it’s supposed to work.

Last year I threatened to do this and later reneged. The only people I saw singing were the blonde hostess (90% of the time) and a group of women – known to me in a nod-in-the-elevator sort of way – singing “I Will Always Love You.”

This year, I was tempted to go down and request “Armageddon” by Prism, as I am currently obsessed with this song, but decided it would be too hard to make the shooting star noises all by myself (usually Saint Aardvark helps with the sound effects) and I should to go to work instead. (Incidentally, “Armageddon” was recorded with the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra, lo those many years ago. We have always been a world-class city!)

Anyway, I forgot about the karaoke AGAIN until just now when I returned from lunch and was waiting for our one functioning heritage elevator to finish its leisurely tour of the building. As I waited, the unmistakeable beginnings of four off-key women singing “American Pie” started to float towards me. And just as the players tried for a forward pass, (with the jester on the sidelines, in a caaaaaast) the elevator came, saving me from what could only have become a world of hurt.

Rule 1. No karaoke without beer.
Rule 2. Since I can’t have beer, no one gets karaoke in my presence.