Last Friday, at midnight, my son Alec officially turned 21. In a rite of passage as old as parenting and alcohol, I took him to a bar for his first legal drink**. I found a place nearby that was open after midnight and within walking distance. As we came in the door, my auditory system was assaulted to the edge of sensory overload shut-down by what at first sounded like an ogre having a seizure. Not to worry, it was karaoke night at the redneck bar. Alec assured me that the real song, sung by the real band, sounded the same. Kids these days.
We found a table mercifully far away from the speakers but with the decibel level still approaching that of an aircraft carrier’s flight deck during a combat mission…in a thunderstorm…during a volcanic eruption…and an asteroid strike. I ordered a pitcher from the barmaid, and mentioned it was for the birthday boy. Alec passed over his driver’s license and she confirmed that he was indeed, 21 years old by a full 5 minutes. “Happy birthday” she said and went to fill our order. She was back shortly with a pitcher of Bud and a glass. “On the house”, she said, placing the glass in front of Alec. “It’s a Four Knights—Jimmy, Jack, Johnny, and Jose,” That would be Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker and Jose Cuervo to the uninitiated. Alec took a sip, made a face, and passed it over to me. I tasted it; not bad, although Four Horsemen would have been a better name-just what you need to get through the appocylypse. I passed it back to Alec who slammed it down, chasing it with a beer. Kid’s been getting some practice I thought. As Alec and Craig, his newly arrived friend from back in high school, began looking over the karaoke selections, my reverie was broken by a pseudo-good ole boy in a black Stetson doing a voice-over to “Okie from Muscogee”. Jeeze, I thought, I haven’t heard that song since before my son was born. Funny how things change but pretty much stay the same—If you change the words in the line: “White lightning’s still the biggest thrill of all” to “Home-made meth” you still pretty much retain the essence of the song…well, maybe not. Time for another pitcher.
Alec and Craig were called up to the stage by the karaoke master for their selection. “But first, it’s Alec’s 21st birthday.” The DJ said, “Everyone join me in wishing him a good one.” The bar burst into song, following the age old rule of if you can’t sing it well, sing it loud.
Alec chose a song, “Just a Gigolo” by David Lee Roth, formerly of the head-banger band Van Halen. He didn’t really know the words and read his way though it to the end, not too bad; He got hung up on the scat singing la-la-la part but the bar gave him a rousing ovation anyway. He and Craig joined in a duet of the Beatles’ “Revolution”; again, same result. Don’t quit your day job.
I poured the rest of the pitcher, and asked for the check. Alec raised his glass to me and said “Happy birthday, Pop.”
**Note to Parents: In no way should this be construed as a “first drink”—this is just a first legal drink, eliminating the 3 a.m. phone call: “Mr./Mrs. insert name here , this is Officer insert name here, of the insert name here police department. We have you son/daughter, insert name here on a drinking under age charge and would like you to come down to the station house as soon as possible.”
