We spent the day poking our noses in thrift stores, buying fruit at a local farm stand, eating amazing Mexican food in a hole-in-the-wall bakery in a strip mall in the middle of nowhere (Georgetown, DE to be exact), and driving several miles to take a picture of a sign. In Ocean City we ate crab cakes, bought the T-shirt, and wandered over to check out the waves. All the hotel balconies were decorated with sandy, bright, salty towels, hanging out to dry for the next day. I was hard-pressed to see a woman not wearing a bikini.
The second ocean town of the day, Rehoboth Beach, was the final destination and site of karaoke. First, we had dinner and pre-song beverages at Dogfish where I savored the wood-aged offerings and Dave enjoyed some IPAs. When it was time, we ventured out into the night crowds and walked over to the karaoke bar. The crowd seemed to skew older and screamed tourist; the small exception to this was a group of men off to the side, eyes glued to a big screen showing the Olympics.
The KJ opens the show by warning us that the mic and speakers were a bit on the fritz; I noticed a bit on my first song as the volume seemed to come and go – not that it was a big deal, for this was hardly a place that took the singing seriously. I like it this way.
As the evening progresses, the songs get a little more flirty. A woman in a very short skirt with a slit up the back struts her stuff as she sings Madonna (one of her friends throws a dollar at her); a man growls a version of You Can Leave Your Hat On to a whooping audience. Still, a wonderful rendition of Frank Sinatra gets equal attention. This is a bar full of support and enthusiasm.
One non-singing patron in particular contributed to the positive energy. Drunk enough to tug up his shirt to reveal his hairy grey chest, he is the first to cheer and dance. I laugh as he walks up to the KJ to request a song – not to sing, but to hear. The KJ smiles and lets him know that the singers choose the songs: that’s how karaoke works. A tad crestfallen, he turns to be and asks he turns to me and asks if I’m going to sing the Stones. I try to let him down easily, and he replies “Well, shit biscuits.” Then he hears me sing Donna Summer, and gets the whole bar to dance along. I think I was forgiven.
- Location: The Pond Bar and Grill, Rehoboth Beach, DE
- Miles Traveled: 189
- Songs sung: Dreams (Fleetwood Mac), Dancing Queen (ABBA), Last Dance (Donna Summer)