No Patsy Cline Karaoke For Me

We previewed Steel Magnolias last night. After a less than stellar final dress, there was some concern how the show would go in front of an audience. And like they say in Shakespeare in Love, everything turned out well in the end. I don't know how, it's a mystery.

After the show, S, the director, J, the stage manager, C, the sound designer, and also J's fiance, A, who plays Mlynn, and R, A's husband, piled into cars to head to the Troubador. The Troubador is a bar outside of Berkley, which also houses a recording studio. It was here that Patsy Cline did her first recordings.

A quick digression by way of explaining. Berkley Springs is a spa town, and there is a signifigant tourist industry here during the summer. To kick the season off, the town has something called "Hey Girlfriend". There are pink flyers all over town advertising various events and specials. Our production is listed, as was an event at the Troubador called "Patsy Cline Karaoke". Intrigued, I mentioned it to the other production staff. Those of us from out of town decided quickly there was no way we were missing that.

So off we went, eagerly anticipating drunk locals belting out country torch songs. There was even some idea of joining in. And what did we find. When we pulled up, the parking lot was almost empty. As J, C and I approached the door, a large woman came to the screen door, peering at us as if we had green skin and tentacles.

"Are you open?" asked C.

"What do you want?" was the suspicious reply.

"We heard there was Karaoke, we thought we would have a few drinks."

"No. We're closed. Tommorrow night."

OK, then. As we were headed back to the car, the place cleared out. The last of the cars were filling as we drove away. It was strange.

C has told us that many places here only seem to welcome locals. I guess we looked too weird. It did have that feeling of having walked in on something illicit.

We are going back tonight for another try.