Once upon a time I dreamt of a career singing and dancing in Broadway shows. Journalism was not center stage for me — yet. I trained as a triple-threat for a while and even joined a cabaret company, but never really got anywhere beyond the New Jersey dinner theater scene.
Then I discovered karaoke. It’s a perfect performance outlet for an avid shower singer who flunked every musical theater audition she’d ever been on.
For me these days, there’s nothing like the thrill of dive-bar stardom in three-minute increments. If you’re a little competitive, like I am, you’re amped for a challenge and pick a hard song. You grab the mike, which is probably already sticky with vodka-club-cranberry. Your heart flutters a little as you summon your inner diva (also known as taking a sip of your drink). You breathe into your diaphragm, lift your soft palate, and wow the crowd (of other patrons just like you).
I took a break from musical theater, and I’m more of a pop-rock princess these days when I grab the karaoke mike. My go-to tunes are “Heartbreaker” by Pat Benatar, “Waking Up in Vegas” by Katy Perry, and “Marry You” by Bruno Mars.
Recently, though, I hit peak karaoke queen, and I’ll go crazy if I don’t #humblebrag about it for a minute.
I’d flown to Chicago for a conference and trade show on innovation and technology in journalism. It was pretty cool, and I learned a lot of stuff, and I’m sure both The Star’s readers and advertisers will soon benefit from it all. (“Are you ready for the fourth Industrial Revolution?” one speaker asked.) But on my last night there, after two days of inspirational keynote speakers and PowerPoint presentations, I found myself in need of some dinner and entertainment.
As it turns out, in addition to karaoke, exploring new places is another one of my favorite pastimes. Chicago is a fun city, and it was a gorgeous early autumn evening. I Ubered across town and sucked down a honey-lavender almond- milk iced latte at a coffee shop called Dollop. I ate a massive plate of fish ’n’ chips at the Plymouth Rooftop Restaurant and Bar, which overlooked the Loop as it meandered into a station at the majestic Harold Washington Library, named for the city’s first African-American mayor (who I learned had once had his law license suspended and later served 40 days in Cook County Jail for failing to file four years of income tax returns but otherwise had a good run as mayor, it seems, before he died in office).
I debated attending a comedy show at Second City, but then something caught my attention: a karaoke bar fashioned after an old speakeasy. Brando’s. I couldn’t not go.
“Cool” doesn’t even begin to describe the French Quarter-inspired joint, but my favorite part was the stage.
I browsed the song collection and knew exactly what I wanted to sing — “When I’m Gone (Cups)” by Anna Kendrick, from the first “Pitch Perfect” movie. I convinced the bartender to lend me one of her tall mixing cups, then flat-out bribed the karaoke M.C. to hold the microphone for me while I sat on the floor and did the clapping-and-tapping cup thing while I sang. If you don’t know it, Google it. You’ll be obsessed, too.
“I got my ticket for the long way round. . . .”
Breathe into diaphragm.
“Two bottle o’ whiskey for the way. . . .”
Lift soft palate.
“And I sure would like some sweet company. . . .”
The crowd (of other people just like me) was going wild.
“And I’m leaving tomorrow, what do you say?”
My three days in Chicago were great, and the conference was truly enlightening, but it’ll be a long time before something tops the rush of karaoke superstardom that night.
Christine Sampson is The Star’s education reporter.