by Meg Stepp

Created on: April 21, 2008   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

I remember the first time I sang karaoke in front of a group. I was 15 years old and at a conference party. My friends decided to try their hand at AC/DC's "Back in Black." They were absolutely horrible. In an effort to save their performance, I rushed to the front and grabbed the microphone, belting out the lyrics. From that moment on, I was addicted to karaoke.

I sang everywhere in the car, in the shower, in the living room to commercial jingles. When I started college and was able to go inside bars, my addiction rose to a new level. At first, it was one or two weekends a month. My friends and I would scout the local paper's entertainment sections looking for bars and clubs doing karaoke. Eventually, it got to the point where we had a schedule Monday nights at O'Cools, Wednesday nights at Buck's, Thursday nights at Gator's, and Friday nights we sang along to the jukebox at the little hole-in-the-wall pool hall.

Soon I was able to tell what kind of karaoke was going to be available just by the DJ who was being advertised for that night. DJ Rocksteady? Country and Hip-hop were his specialties. DJ Firecracker? Classic rock all the way. DJ Wildchild? Top 40 hits were in his collection.

My best friend Barbara and I only go to certain bars on karaoke nights. Some DJs are better than others, and only a true karaoke enthusiast knows that. We don't go to get drunk and dance and pick up random guys. Our motives are more focused that; we hear the karaoke calling to us. We plan out our songs based on the DJ who is performing. We know the song numbers and the location of the song in the giant book of tracks. We even write out our own set list as if we're rock stars about to get on stage. The local DJs between Raleigh and Greenville and Rocky Mount knows our playlist as well as we do.

When my partner-in-crime and I first got addicted, we used to blow up over some other girl singing our songs. Major drama, major cat fights. Soon, we learned to congratulation the girl on her valiant efforts, and have a list of alternatives ready to go, all while glaring her down and telling ourselves that we could do better.

Barbara and I pride ourselves on being to every bar between Raleigh, Rocky Mount, and Greenville for their karaoke nights. We know all the DJs' stage names, real names, and their entire book of tracks. If you're ever in that triangle of North Carolina on a karaoke night, don't hesitate to buy the two wild and loud singing ladies a drink it makes us sing better.

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