From Pancakes To Karaoke

I went out for breakfast yesterday and ended up singing karaoke at 1am with a bunch of soccer hooligans. I woke up about 1pm, and Cris (my roommate), suggested we head over to Perkins for breakfast (his interest was mostly due to the fact that we've found a Perkins with cute waitresses, but they have good pancakes, too). I had a couple of things to return down at The Mall*, and Cris decided to tag along (*For non-Minnesotans: Around here, "The Mall" means the giant stinking monument to capitalism more widely known as The Mall of America or The Mega-Mall. It's about the only reason anyone ever visits this state, and it's really not worth it).

By the time I was finished at The Mall, it was already 5pm, and I wanted to get together with Mark for dinner, so I gave him a call. Mark and his roommate were already out looking for a place to eat, so I went directly to Uptown ($1 burger night at William's - yeah, baby!) to meet them; poor, unwitting Cris was dragged along. We were still stuffed with Perkins, so we just hung out with Mark and his roommate while they ate. Cris and I finally started to get hungry around the time they were leaving, so we stayed to order our own burgers. That's when the soccer hooligans showed up.

A bunch of kids (I use the term "kids" loosely; they were roughly our age) came in wearing soccer clothes, many of them even sporting cleats and shinguards. Cris - who was a big soccer player in high school back in Atlanta, and who used to work at a soccer store - was busy pointing out to me the "real" soccer players in the group and commenting on their gear. I don't mean that he was saying, "those are nice cleats"; I mean he was listing the retail value of everyone's socks - this guy knows soccer.

The soccer players started drinking, and, pretty soon, the drinking games began. I don't know the name of the game they were playing, but some of the girls in the group were up doing jumping jacks and push-ups when "Smith", one of the more outspoken guys in the group, noticed us across the bar and invited us to join in the fun. Cris was a little reluctant, but when I went, he followed (that's becoming a theme here; does he actually think it's a good idea to follow me?).

The group turned out to be from a local soccer league, and they had just won their championship game, in an upset victory, via shootout. They turned out to be a blast, and they all welcomed us into the pack with open arms. But the fun wasn't going to stop at William's. It was Sunday night, and they were champions, so what did they want to do next? Find a karaoke bar. Duh.

We headed for O'Donovan's Irish Pub with a few of the soccer hooligans riding along in my car. They kicked off the night with Queen's "We are the Champions" (you might have seen that one coming), I bought a round of Irish car bombs, and Cris and I ended up on stage (with cute backup dancers who materialized out of the crowd) singing "Save the Horse, Ride a Cowboy". Just a typical evening for me, really.