Let's Globe-Trot: In which my karaoke partner does not pull his weight

There aren’t usually a whole lot of options for a Tuscanian Friday night, so when San Marco announced via colorful flier that they would be hosting a karaoke night… we were there. No brainer.

When we arrived, the bald karaoke attendant was belting David Bowie. We got drinks, started chatting about our upcoming weekend trip to Capri (!!!), and then he started in on some Italian techno song. Then he sang something else. And something else.

Eventually we went up to him and asked to see the song list. The poor man’s vocal cords needed a reprieve.

This is when the party really got started. The bravest of our American girls graced the ears of the San Marco crowd with enthusiastic renditions of “Livin on a Prayer” and “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun,” while simultaneously coining a new genre blend (Bubblegum Pop/Scream-O), sipping pink cocktails, and charming all the locals.

In all their glory. Get it, Kelsey.

Meanwhile, I’m engaged in an elaborate daydream that involves myself holding the crowd spellbound with The Beatles. “Come together…” I would demand, my voice perfectly raspy in the holy silence. “Right now…” *the crowd stands up and starts cheering, slowly at first, then in a frenzy* “Over me…” BOOM! Disco ball drop! Legion of white doves! PINK AND YELLOW CONFETTI FROM THE STARS!!!

So I was doing that, and the most ridiculous member of our new group of Italian buddies said something like “Do any of you want to sing?”

My face lit up. At last, my time had come. “The Beatles?” I said. “Come together?” The words seemed to register somewhere in his brain, and before I knew it, we were at the front of the bar with microphones in our hands.

This was it.

But Frederico (ridiculous Italian guy in question) did something unforgivable. He selected on the prompter, not “Come Together” as we had so (almost) clearly agreed to sing, but rather the most obscure Frank Sinatra song known to man. One I swear I have never heard.

Nothing is more terrifying than singing karaoke to song you don’t know.

Thankfully, Frederico quickly tired of singing alone, and the DJ turned off the music mid song. Unfortunately, however, Frederico did not tire of picking our songs for us. Next up: “Sweet Child of Mine” by Guns N’ Roses. OK, Frederico, I thought. You win. At least I know this one.

*Warning: Do not watch if you are afraid of people singing horribly off key*

So we sang our song, danced our dance, and while my epic “Come Together” dream went completely unfulfilled, at least I can say I sang karaoke in Italy.

Other, less tone-deaf, highlights since my last post include:

-Spending a day in Tarquinia riding bikes (for some of us, struggling on bikes), wine tasting at a farm house, and lounging by a resort pool.