When asked if they sing, people often quip, “Only in the bathroom.” They usually don’t intend the remark to be taken literally, but when I was a child, it was my favorite performance venue. I suppose the tiled floor and walls, allowing my voice to echo wildly through the air was simply too much to resist. Oh, yes… I forgot to mention, the bathroom of which I speak was not the one in my home. These were public restrooms, usually in restaurants.
After enjoying a peaceful and delicious meal with my mom, and sometimes other family members, I would always find an excuse to make my way into the restroom before we left.
Curtain up!
Out would pour songs from 1970s top forty radio, country western, and even a little pop and rock. But my favorite song, by far, was “Tomorrow” from the Broadway musical, Annie. It didn’t seem to matter to me that there were people constantly invading my concert hall to pee. I joyously continued my one-man concert, despite odd stares or rude comments. On occasion, I would even receive a bit of applause for my effort.
The only problem with my artistic endeavor was that the entire restaurant could hear me, including my mortified mother. As my performance continued to rock the house, my mother would have to slink back to the men’s restroom, amid stares and uncomfortable smiles and try to figure out how to get me to shut-up without invading the porcelain palace. Occasionally, she would have to ask a gentleman leaving the restroom to go back inside and tell me, “Your mother would really like for you to stop singing.” Then, I would hear my mother’s voice call from outside the restroom door, “And wash your hands!”
On one particular restaurant outing, my mother was making her way back to our booth after another impromptu concert, when the lady in the next booth chimed up, attempting to lessen the sting of humiliation by saying, “He has a lovely voice.”
Imagine, I now sing for a living. But then again, I had lots of practice.
Maginarius 