Going Cold Turkey

Doctors and addiction experts will probably dispute this, but I’m beginning to think that you can be addicted to anything. It seems to me that an addiction could probably stem from anything from which you get some kind of rush or positive feedback.

Of course, that doesn’t explain blogging. Long before I ever created the blog, I found it absorbing my thoughts. It even screwed up my Christmas list – anyone know where I can get a waterproof laptop? Seems like I always have my best ideas in the shower, and I don’t just think of a topic; I tend to think in paragraphs. Unfortunately most of those words go down the drain with the last of the water.

Perhaps the most insidious addiction I’ve tangled with, however – the substance most in need of controlling – is karaoke.

I had tried karaoke a couple of times in the past and really enjoyed it. I’m a pretty good singer, I love to sing, and I have as much hambone in me as the next guy. Even with all that, I never really dreamed it would take over my life, but truthfully I’m still a bit in withdrawal after my recent experience. In October our family took a cruise, and it turns out that cruise ships are a seething, teeming breeding ground for karaoke.

I really thought I’d go in, do my thing, and move on … but do you think anyone figures, “If I take one drink, I’m going to end up alcoholic”?

People got up, they sang, they were good, bad or indifferent, the crowd clapped, next…. So I wasn’t expecting my turn to be any different. But when I got done, the crowd… well, they kinda went wild. Which was cool enough, but it just snowballed from there.

I sang a second song later that night, and got another enthusiastic reception. Unsurprisingly, I began to think: maybe I should come back here. Then as I was walking around the ship, people would recognize me. “Hey Mark, that was great – are you going to be singing tonight?” I quickly rearranged my schedule to make sure I could be there –literally sneaking out (with my wife’s cooperation) after the kids were asleep.

Later in the week, we were walking around Halifax, Nova Scotia, on one of our port days. A group of women spotted me with my wife on the sidewalk and came rushing over. One of them asked me for my autograph, and another one said, “When you sang, I wanted to throw my bra at you!”

I’ve done stage shows and performed music for years, and I’ve gotten my share of compliments, but I’ve never experienced groupies. Before I knew it, I was basically scheming to be there at every opportunity. And our cabin, which was small enough to begin with, was beginning to be a bit of a tight fit for my head.

The oddest effect was not that I began to crave the attention and applause; it really messed with my head with regard to the music itself. I kept going through the book, looking for the perfect song to give the crowd the exact same kind of sound they had “loved” me for originally. I always have 100% confidence in my singing ability, but I was afraid that a song that didn’t allow me to show off wouldn’t be good enough.

As the week went on, however, even my immense talent and personal magnetism weren’t enough to keep the crowds from dwindling. It’s probably best that I had the opportunity to taper off instead of going cold turkey – there’s no karaoke machine, and no crowds, at our house. I have to confess, though, I still think at least once a week: if I get another chance, what will I sing? I wonder where I could go for rehab…