Have you ever sat somewhere and felt like there must be hidden cameras pointed directly at you?
Like you’re the unsuspecting star of some giant practical joke?
That happened to me Friday night.
A few weeks ago, I wrote a blog called When Did Everywhere Become a Playground? in which I questioned why there seemed to be children everywhere I went. Breweries. Restaurants. Places that, in my younger days, seemed to be primarily populated by adults.
Well, the story continued.
I decided to head out for a late dinner around 9:00 PM at one of my favorite local bar and grills. They have karaoke on Friday nights. I’m not a huge fan of karaoke, but the food is fantastic, and I figured I could tolerate a few off-key renditions of classic rock songs in exchange for a good burger.
As I waited for my food, I looked around the room.
Children.
Lots of children.
Once again.
At one point, there was even a child pushing a baby stroller through the restaurant with another child riding in it.
A child pushing a child.
In a bar.
At 9:00 PM.
I had to laugh. It was either that or stare into space questioning reality.
A few bites into my meal, the next karaoke song started.
I was seated with my back to the stage area, so I couldn’t see who had grabbed the microphone for their brief moment of fame.
Then I heard the voice.
I immediately set down my fork and looked at my friend.
“Is that a child singing?”
It was.
And it wasn’t just one child.
There were multiple children.
Singing karaoke.
In a crowded bar.
At 9:00 PM.
The more I thought about it, the harder I laughed. Pretty soon I had tears rolling down my face.
Not because they were bad.
Not because they shouldn’t have been singing.
But because it felt like the universe had read my previous blog post and decided to mess with me personally.
Of all the places I expected to hear a child singing, a Friday night karaoke session at a neighborhood bar wasn’t exactly at the top of the list.
When I was a kid, my parents would never have taken me to a bar at 9:00 PM.
And there is absolutely no chance they would have handed me a microphone and encouraged me to perform in front of a room full of strangers.
Back then, if kids wanted to sing in public, we got recruited for the school Christmas concert and were forced to wear uncomfortable clothes while our parents filmed us with super 8 cameras that had no sound.
That was our stage.
Maybe I’m just jealous.
Maybe today’s kids have figured something out that my generation missed.
They get to go to breweries.
They get to go to restaurants.
They get to stay out past my bedtime.
They even get karaoke nights.
Yeah.
Jealousy.
That’s what it is.
At least that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself.
Although if I walk into a sports bar next week and find a kindergarten graduation ceremony taking place in the banquet room, I’m officially calling for an investigation.
.
