Down and Out in Denver

Trying to come up with a title for this post — just one word or location — was impossible.  Your DOD boys were all over the place this weekend.  We began Friday night at a lovely catered graduation party in the Highlands, where we chatted with friends and congratulated the graduate (an advanced degree; we’re too old to be socializing with undergrads!).  Then we headed out to meet some of our gal pals for a few drinks on the town.  I had planned on turning in relatively early; I had to be up the next morning.  It was not to be.

We had a cocktail at Sputnik first but we weren’t really feeling it.  So we headed on over to a new DOD favorite, Sketch Wine Bar, at Broadway and 1st Avenue.  We split a bottle of Prosecco and then each had a glass of wine.  There were 8 of us by this point, but J.D., the friendly barkeep, knew all our names by about halfway through our stay.  Now that’s the kind of service we can get excited about!  Add to that the great selection of wines by the bottle and glass, and we were happy campers.

But even that was not enough for one of our gal pals, whom I shall call Whitney (you’ll see why in a minute).  Whitney was hell bent on singing karaoke and she swears by Armida’s (on Lincoln between 8th and 9th).  She twisted our arms and so we pried ourselves away from our lovely window nook at Sketch and piled into cabs bound for Armida’s.  (Our surly driver told us we should have walked but he dropped us off nevertheless.)

The Karaoke Viewer at Armida's

Turns out that by the time we arrived, Whitney (who got there first) had already signed up both the DOD boys.  We had earlier made the mistake of telling her what we would sing if we had been so inclined.  The key word there is “if.”  I do not sing.  I had a karaoke stint in high school when, apparently, I had fewer inhibitions, but I haven’t done it in years.  I have a horrible voice and I wasn’t keen to subject anyone else to my out-of-key keening.  But Whitney was having none of it.

This is the thing: she can sing.  And she’s fearless (the cocktails didn’t hurt).  After a rousing rendition of “Your Love” by Outfield (which we have on video, but which WordPress would charge me too much to upload), it came my turn.  I was dreading it, so I brought Whitney up on stage with me and we recaptured some of my high school glory with Bananarama’s version of the classic “Venus” (It didn’t hurt that my mic was set to backup and Whitney’s was the lead).  Alastair rounded out the evening with “Midnight Cowboy.”

A great time was had by all.  A few suggestions for our fellow singers: No ballads unless you can actually sing.  And even then, think twice; they’re just not as much fun for the audience.  If you’re a white boy, avoid songs where you’ll be required to to say n***er.  Really.  And no matter who you are, sing with enthusiasm.  A little dancing never hurt anyone either.  If Blake can do it, pretty much anyone can!