Something happened at dinner this evening that caused a repressed embarrassing moment to pop into my head. I have to share.
A few years ago, while living in NC, I dated a gentleman who enjoyed singing. Since I do, too, we frequently hit the karaoke clubs/bars. It seems that most people need to knock back a few drinks before they have the nerve to take the mike. But for others, they will embarrass themselves in front of a room of strangers with little to no encouragement. That would be me. A Patsy Cline wannabe.
My friend, whom I will call RJ, would bring the house down every time he did his excellent rendition of James Brown's "I Feel Good." It was always a crowd pleaser. We had a lot of fun and found one DJ in particular we loved to follow. Freddy and his wife were retired and they were booked several nights a week at various locations to bring in business. Freddy, a little wizard of a man, worked the crowd and his wife played the music. They were a great team and had a very appreciative audience including RJ and me.
For a time, Freddy was booked as a regular on a week night at an authentic Mexican restaurant. It was not a fancy place but the food was excellent and with the karaoke, the crowds were steadily increasing. RJ and I liked to go to the places where the karaoke was new because it meant the wait time was shorter between when we could sing. And, I always said, after the other diners heard me sing, they were less inhibited about trying it. I think it is a gift I have to make others feel better about themselves. Tee Hee
On this particular evening, RJ was once again in the queue to sing and I had to find the little girls' room. The restaurant was not large and the door was in close proximity to the counter. I made my way over and upon entering I determined it was a unisex bathroom. I stepped back out to check the door. Yep, I was in the right place. I then found the latch on the door would not work. I was not about to run the risk of someone opening the door and any bypassing customers having an unobstructed view.
I stepped back out and found the nearest table where four men sat drinking their beers. I asked if one of them could come guard the door since the latch was broken and quickly realized they did not speak English. With my broken Espanol and sign language I explained my need and this dude stood up. He must have been 6' 3" and he came over, turned his back to the bathroom door and crossed his arms. I went in with every confidence that I would be uninterrupted.
As I came back out, I thanked my new hero. RJ was singing and he shot me a quizzical look. I found it funny that he was jealous of my body guard. I made my way back to the table with our friends and when RJ returned he was full of questions. Why did I need to get some guy to stand by the door? And, why did I choose to use the men's restroom?
It turns out the women's restroom was across the room.
Good grief. I do not remember the Spanish word on the door but I obviously misinterpreted. Can you imagine what those guys must have thought when I was insisting on using their men's room and was motioning one of them to come with me??!! RJ, who did not speak Spanish any better than me, went over to try and explain. Not sure if anyone was able to translate but they kept grinning at me the rest of the evening.
12 hours ago