Sing Us A Song, You're The Piano Man...

It's no secret that my favorite night of the week is Saturday night. I don’t care if I’m going out or staying in, Saturday night is always something to look forward to. Friday night can be ok but I think a lot of that depends on how your day went earlier, how tired you are, what the weather is like, etc. Back in college weekends used to include Thursday nights. I didn’t necessarily partake in Thursday festivities very frequently because I am kind of lame when compared to the girls that attended my school – miniskirts and towering heels in the middle of winter on a mountain? I think not (See Mom? I didn’t waste your money while in college. I was probably diligently studying in my room…yeah, studying…)! Clearly, Sunday night kind of sucks. With Monday looming right around the corner, thus signaling a new week of 40+ hours back in the office, Sunday nights are often the victim of some well deserved hatred. No matter what I do Monday always comes around again and so I try to make the most of those precious few carefree hours on Saturday night.

A couple weeks ago some friends and I decided that we were going to hit up a few places at the National Harbor over in P.G. county (don’t judge me, technically I was born there). The logic behind this choice as opposed to the typical, and all too familiar, yuppie scene of Arlington is that they have something very specific that Arlington just couldn’t offer us…

a dueling piano bar.

During our vacation in early May my friend and I happened upon one of these venues and had an amazing time, complete with a post-party leisure walk, some time feeding the ducks, and plenty of photo ops (FYI by leisure walk what I really mean is walking angrily around the shopping center in order to sober up after being groped and propositioned by an old man who actually thought I might let him go home with me. Yeah freaking right – the ducks help calm me down). After some research I found that the closest, and only, dueling piano bar in the DC area was located at the National Harbor – Bobby McKey’s. The bar opened up in late 2008 but I had never heard anything about it. I found that pretty odd considering I only live about 7 miles away.

The morning of our adventure comes and I’m super excited. It’s not too frequently that I dress up (my Adidas sandals might as well be permanently attached to my feet) so I was looking forward to going somewhere and looking cute. One of my friends that was coming is ALWAYS in dresses and heels, this is like an unwritten law for her – let me tell you, when we went to the beach on vacation she forgot a beach towel but had enough heels to outfit a small country (ok, a very very small country – love you half sister!). Generally I feel like an underdressed slob because she always looks great but I vowed that I would dress myself to the nines and party with the best of them.

Donned in a one shoulder gray mini-dress, and further accessorized with my fabulous 4.5 inch Calvin Klein dark gray snakeskin embossed wedges (total statement shoes), I was really excited for my first trip to Bobby McKey’s. Let me tell you, they did not disappoint.

After parking the car in a nearby garage we made our way to the building. We gladly pay the $5 cover charge - $15 if you want VIP seating - and navigate our way to the bar for a drink. While standing around near the bar like a couple of wallflowers, I notice one of the bouncers approaching us (if that’s technically what he was, maybe security is a better word? I don’t know!). Standing there I quickly try to figure out what we did - are we in the way? maybe blocking a fire escape? perhaps someone knows us? He stops right in front of us and my eyes pan upward over this intimidating tall, muscular guy with a shaved head. He stands there, arms folded across his chest with a very straight look on his face. Awkwardly I raise my arm and give this weird little wave and enthusiastically say "Hi!" to which he responds “Do you want to sit?” Well of course we do! He leads us over to a table with a RESERVED sign on it and we plop down. Thank you Mr. Cute Muscular Bouncer Dude!

Within half an hour we are already having a great time, the people are our table are cool and the piano players are entertaining - what more could I ask for? The piano players transition to the next song and it’s Shoop by Salt N Pepa. I start to move around in my seat, always the entertainer of course, and before I know it my bouncer friend is back. Standing in front of me he grabs my purse off my lap and places it on the table. I’m so confused at this point. He gets me out of my seat and leads me up on to the stage and says “We need someone to dance.” As I stand on the stage alone (and in shock) I look out and violently throw my arm into the air and point at my friend – “She has to come up here too! Make her come up here!” Ha. I’m not dancing up on a stage alone unless you get a couple (or 8) drinks in me. So the bouncer brings her up to me and I’m better. We make our way to the middle of the stage and start dancing (4.5 inch heels on a stage is a little tough and I'm pretty sure I did that stupid kissy face thing all girls do in a weird attempt to look hot while dancing). I don’t even know the words to this song with the exception of the endless repetition of the word “shoop” of course (I don’t even think that’s a word). As we dance they get more girls up on the stage and everything is fine. The song changes to “Single Ladies” and all the women to my left leave the stage, I figure that’s my cue to leave too. Several of the other girls stay up there, one girl in particular got really into it. She was shaking what her mama gave her in teeny tiny little denim jeans. I saw her later that night and had to give her some props. She gave me crap for getting off the stage to which I responded that I felt it was her time to be in the spotlight because she was awesome. Of course she came back and said she would love to share that spotlight with me. Awww, fast stage dancing friends…it’s amazing what music, alcohol, and booty shaking can do!

While we were on stage more members of our group arrived to the bar but yet no one managed to get a picture of this awesomely bad stage dancing opportunity. My poor camera sat alone on the table waiting for someone to capture this memory,and boy I would have loved to have seen it. Some of us did get our picture taken by staff and it made it on the website, that was pretty cool. The last member of our group finally arrives after a long drive from Baltimore. She had agreed to come with one stipulation – we go to the bar next door (Cadillac Ranch) so that she could ride the mechanical bull.

Having been to country bars in Hampton Roads I figured I would have no problem fitting right in. Yeah I can’t line dance but whatever, it’s cool. So we get inside Cadillac Ranch and it is absolutely nothing like the country bars I had been to (miss you Saddleridge!)The clientele did not look like they were into country music, rodeos, or even lawnmower racing! How is this even a country bar?! We make a beeline towards the mechanical bull and she anxiously gets in line. Unfortunately, you have pay to ride the bull here...three bucks. To me fifteen seconds is not worth $3 (yes I gave myself 15 seconds and that’s probably generous). Riding a mechnical bull was totally free in Norfolk! I man the camera, ready to take pictures for her of her wild ride. Three minutes later the bull breaks. So much for that experience.

We sit down and have a drink since we are already there and I watch as girls line up for a photo op on the stationary bull. They hop on, one at a time, leaning forward while attempting to make “sexy faces” for the camera. We all know, bull riding is sexy, we get it. It's even more sexy when it’s a mechanical bull that's actually broken and had it not been you probably wouldn’t have lasted more than 22.5 seconds - you are all living a lie! Sadly, the worst part about this whole situation was still to come. I watched in horror as a rather large girl tried to get on the bull, futilely jumping in attempt to straddle the beast. I felt so bad as I watched, it was awful. Homegirl was not about to give up without a fight. On her 3^rd or 4^th attempt she somehow manages to get partially on the bull but her landing produces a mortifyingly loud SMACK that echoes throughout the entire building. She wiggles her way on fully and does her “sexy face” while giving everyone in the bar a clear view of her thong which was very much exposed. I tried my hardest not to react or make a sarcastic comment, I failed. That bull saw a lot of action that night, probably more than most of my guy friends have seen in a year! I guess the good news though is at least they don’t have to be rubbed down with disinfectant every night.

We ended our night back at Bobby McKeys’s, hanging out til last call and then parting ways to go home and get some much needed sleep. I can easily say that it was a successful Saturday night, one of my best in a while. I will be visiting Bobby McKey’s again and maybe next time I will be dragging YOU on stage with me.