Barbaritas and Karaoke
240920 8:00p CST
You never know how white you are until you discover yourself immersed in a culture where you don’t understand anything that’s going on.
We are at Barbaritas with DARW. Deejay JJ is our mixmaster tonight. A real deal Mexican. His choice in preamble music are deep cuts I’ve heard for decades. I wonder if he’s related to the family with which I am studying.
Jellybean and DARW lament about the old days and getting into fights at the movies. Jellybean wants to punch the waitress when she gives her attitude over seat choice. DARW says ‘no!!’
The Mexicans are dancing now. It is turning into a party as we sit at the bar and sip drinks and snack on floutas and enchiladas.
Jellybean is wearing her new blouse she bought yesterday with DARW. She is very proud of the gold zipper pull that matches her gold necklaces that are splashed across her gorgeous décollatage.
It’s funny always being the white guy at Spanish functions. They all know, and I certainly know, I’m a cultural outsider. The interesting thing is that I’ve always been welcome in circles like this. Almost celebrated for my willingness to participate. I wonder if most whites who aren’t married into the culture really understand this. Or do they fear the unknown? Is it normal to be culture-curious? Anytime I see a monochromatic gathering, my interest is piqued. They seem like clubs where the entrance pass is the color of your skin… as if that alone proves you have the experiential qualifications to participate. From my own paths, skin tone has less to do with culture than choice.
I was a minority once in west Africa for some time (I am from North America). But it wasn’t the negative experience I emotionally associate with the word (minority). It felt like being a star. Everywhere I went, people welcomed me with smiles and curiosity. The children… Ahhh, pure. Joy. They had seen so few or no people like me in their tiny lives it was like lightning struck. Wouldn’t that be a joy? If difference meant an opportunity to learn something new and NOT a threat to the status quo?
One day… one day we’ll see exactly that.
A Spanish man belts out laments on the sound system about lover who jilted him unfairly. It is the kind of passion that is not easily simulated. I wonder who hurt him so and assume it was a memory before he had this large expansive fan base. Points for commitment to his voyage. The singer’s costume is a long flowy blouse type of affair that puts me in the mind of native garb.
We are moving into the karaoke portion of the evening. DEEJAY JJ has gotten the ball rolling with a song about a loyal woman giving a rose and saying ‘I’m sorry’. Disculpe Usted. Jellybean explains these things to me.
Now we are crowd sourcing. To get the party started Deejay JJ is flitting like a bee table-to-table to find victims willing to give a line or two a shot. He doesn’t stop at me. He can likely sense I have NO idea what any of these songs are. Six-foot-two-eyes-of-blue is a red flag. But, I think we need about 49 more ppl and several more beers.
No way I can sing. I can muddle my through reading the written language but only with some rehearsal could I sing anything. Even then it would be more spectacle than art. But how fantastic would it be to spend a few weeks practicing some impassioned, jilted lovers song and come here one Friday night and blow everyone’s mind!!
I can hear them now, ‘who’s the guero?!?!
The current choice is something about a monkey (changa) getting tricked by the car of the year. A comment about how this woman is easily swooned by shiney materialism.
Man, fluent Spanish speakers can really role. I think I would enjoy speaking Spanish just for the rhythm. Brrrrrp. Brrrrrrp. Brrrrrrpt!
A patron is now butchering something bout the cold of broken hearts while Jellybean scratches her sisters back. I’m getting the sense they are not as excited about this function as they expected.
A trip to the toilet reveals someone has scrawled ‘Opas Foever’, the name of this establishment two iterations ago when they exclusively served German fare. The sausages and sauerkraut were wonderful.
The place’s decor still reminds me of the restaurant in Fast Times at Ridgemont High when Mark Ratner takes the object of his affections, Stacey Hamilton, to Barone’s Italian restaurant. Realizing he’s forgotten his wallet too late and having to wait an excruciatingly long time for his one contact, Mike Demone to show up with the required form of payment. Dooming poor Stacey to be victim of youth and ignorance. Or, so I’ve heard. 🤔
More eager victims arrive as the night goes on. Bean And DARW are equal parts entertained and nervously trying to work up the courage to participate. Fat girls wearing far to little with far too many tattoos begin to join in. The beautiful ones must be attending another affair. Who we see here are old or of modest in those qualities we traditionally associate with beauty. Even the men have put far too little effort into dressing up. It is likely the nature of today youth to substitute healthy clean living for costuming. Gold rings… Well, brass at any rate.
Then again, Thoreau said “There is no more fatal blunderer than he who consumes the greater part of his life getting his living. There is a certain satisfaction in being well-dressed that religion cannot bestow.”
DeeJay JJ makes the room come alive with what must be a Mexican refrain. They all know the song. Me and the other two white guys here clearly do not. They hide themselves in tacos and flautas while I peck away here moment after moment.
My girls seem to have lost their courage. They likely know some of these songs but don’t seem to have the courage to dive in. Possibly more liquid courage would help? It might be the cultural pressure. Or the drinks may be substantially more water than alcohol. Two shots of whiskey usually illicit a tingle somewhere in my body. But not tonight.
Some of these guys are pretty damned good. Our current entertainer started trepidatiously but found his groove about 2/3 of the way through and really went for it. Good for him. His colleague older man, likely 15y my senior was astoundingly good about 5 songs back.
A pretty, plain young woman with long straight black hair and a modest T-shirt appears to be live streaming herself as she bobs her head back and forth in time to the music. She purses her lips between stanzas looking adorable for her audience of…?
The room is erupting in dance now. That group activity seems far more palatable to the middle aged crowd. Group activities offer a certain anonymity that solo Karaoke does not.
The floor starts to fill the room at a modest rate. A small smoke machine is at work somewhere. the lights are a lot more fun with some atmosphere.
But for us, our evening is winding down. We started too early and probably were unsure of what to expect tonight. In the future, we’ll do a few things differently. For one, we’ll know that the catalog is VERY Mexican music. No Labamba here tonight. The other is, we’ll bring our own crowd. That will no doubt foster some fearlessness that seems absent with our little crew of three this evening.