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A Failed Quest and a Childhood Dream

Last night I went back to the closet, this time with Ellie in tow and a specific mission in mind. One of the Pride events I signed up for is a rainbow bar crawl set for tomorrow afternoon into evening. The event is one of the special ones to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of Stonewall and the place that bars as a whole had in the Gay Rights Movement. When I read that description it occurred to me that, while I know plenty about Stonewall, I don't know much about the role of bars as a whole. I was hoping that if I went back to The Closet on a Thursday Sue, the bartender who was there the first time and made a point that she was old enough to be my grandmother, would be there again and might be amenable to giving me a gay history lesson.

Unfortunately, Sue wasn't there this time. Instead a beautiful young bartender with a bright hummingbird tattoo on her bicep took her place. Still, I enjoyed showing Ellie my favorite place in her own city, and we made nice conversation with the bartender about what it was like carding and being carded when you were still so close to the minimum legal age. I didn't leave with the information I wanted, but I was buzzed and happy, and I consider the defeat temporary. My curiosity has been sparked, and I'll find the information somewhere.

After that, Ellie and I went to get dinner. We went to Trader Todd's, a restaurant that we found out is also one of the best karaoke bars in Chicago. We got dinner first, and I got a monstrosity of a hotdog wrapped in bacon, with candied bacon and maple mayo on top. This city has not let me down where hotdogs are concerned. Ellie and I also got five dollar pineapple margaritas, because Ellie was convinced she would need more liquid courage if she was actually going to get on stage.

I was surprised by how nervous I was. I'd done performing arts all through grade school, and it was something I had loved and been good at. It didn't occur to me until I was facing an opportunity to perform again, even if it was just at a karaoke bar where the stakes are deniably low, how long it had been since I'd been on a stage, three years. My vocal range has changed, lowered with both age and a lack of practice, and I wasn't even sure what I could sing anymore. I texted my dad, and he suggested Piano Man. It was the first song I'd ever sung in a middle school talent show, all the way back in fifth grade. At the time, I'd sent a hush over the auditorium full mostly of bored and inattentive adults.

Come to find, I've still got it. For a moment, at least, I sent the same hush over a bar full of drunk people. After I went, Ellie signed the both of us up to sing Mr. Brightside. My final song of the night was I Want to Break Free. It's my favorite Queen song, and it felt like an appropriately gay choice for one of my Pride events. The music video almost ruined the iconic band in America when it first came out, because the band was dressed in drag for the video, and at the time that was pretty far out of social and cultural norms. It was a bold choice for me, range-wise, and I felt my voice scrape unpleasantly at least once, but it didn't really matter. I learned, to my delight, that karaoke bars are a well of human kindness. More times than I could count, well-known songs were sung by the whole bar together. It was a space where music, instead of being a talent, was a human activity.

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