Wyoming & Virgin Karaoke

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I could have spent weeks in Wyoming alone, hiking, exploring, floating down rivers in a kayak, or just lying on the edge of a mountain with grass between my teeth begging for an answer to why I was moving to another city.

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Heavily weighted Hamilton slowly made the Route 14 pass through the Big Horn Mountains. Leaving Sheridan, the views were spectacular, so much so, I had to pinch myself, especially when I couldn’t come up with a good answer to the above question.

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So peaceful and breathtaking, we took our time through the mountain pass. We stopped at the biker/trucker Alamo Hotel on Main Street in Sheridan. After we checked in, I announced to Paul that I should overcome my negative association with Karaoke given that it was a popular pastime in Dallas and Paul professed to be a pro. When in Rome……and hell, it’s not as if it was hard to find a Karaoke bar in a small Wyoming town.

Through the hotel owner, we found our way to LBM – “Little Big Man” on the opposite side of the town. The DJ was the first black-skinned face since we left Montreal and the only black-skinned face in the bar. I had to pull him aside and ask him “how on earth did you end up in Sheridan Wyoming?” Originally from Los Angeles, he just wanted a change from his hectic city lifestyle. “Isn’t there always something there to remind me?”

I wouldn’t call LBM a biker bar – it was more of a hangout for cowboys and groups of 20 something year olds who didn’t have another place to go. Paul started ordering mini-drafts suggesting that I would need something to gently break me into the culture of Karaoke.

Since country music was among our widest selection, I searched for anything low key enough to avoid high pitching cracks that would potentially get us thrown out of the bar. I eventually coaxed Paul into doing a duet of “I Got You Babe” before my solo number – “Cabaret,” which I added dance movements to in front of my audience of 50 or so cowboy types.

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There was no doubt in my mind by the stares that our audience was thinking “They ain’t from around here.” I wanted to make sure a NY imprint was left on the place, so requested a bit of Frank Sinatra and grabbed the LA DJ for a bit of West Coast Swing.

It didn’t even come close to my Red Lodge Montana biker bar experience with Ray Lewis in 2000, but at least I left “Little Big Man” a non-virgin Karaoke singer and was now ready for a big time bar in Missoula or Bozeman.

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