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A friend wanted to post this TR, but they got a little embarrassed, so I'm posting it for them. I've been told that this account is completely non-fiction. The names have been changed to protect the reputation of those involved. Saturday night, "alpinvalupes" and I headed up to Leavin'worth with the sole purpose of getting a solid nights rest and getting up early to go climbing the next day. However, before turning in early, we were to meet "tenarmedcephalopod" and have a cup of diluted chamomile tea with him. It was an early Saturday night, but when we rolled into town Gustav's was shuttering their windows to close down for another chilly Bavarian night. "alpinvalupes" and I desperately searched the town for another purveyor of fine non-caffeinated teas, and at last we found a possibility: The Post Office. I know it sounds strange, but in Bavaria, their Post Offices are actually taverns too. The authenticity of that town is really incredible. We went in to review the list of non-caffeinated beverages while we awaited the arrival of "tenarmedcephalopod". Being as this was the only place that was open, we figured it would have to make do. Unfortunately they did not have any non-caffeinated beverages on tap this particular night except for beer. As good alpinists we knew that we had to "drink the beverages on the bars terms, not on our terms", so we bought a pitcher of non-caffeinated beer (so we were told). As we made quick, efficient use of the pitcher, we looked around the place and quickly realized that something was amiss. Karaoke! Shit...we had to get out of there quick. However, rather than leave quickly without fueling up with the proper amount of non-caffeinated beverage, we ordered another pitcher. At this time a large contingent of women wearing party hats ascribed with the words "Happy Fucking Birthday" on them came marching in. At this point we were starting to get a non-caffeinated buzz going, and we lost track of where the exit door was. Having never ventured into the strange underworld of Karaoke, I was presented with a feast of cultural data. The "DJ" started us off with a passionless and unenthusiastic ballad that I feel sure was an underhanded attempt to sing as poorly as possible in order to strike confidence in the whole room as far as their own "Karaoke Ability". After this it is all a blur to me, but I'll try to relay bits I can remember. Suddenly certain species and sub-types emerged from the woodwork when that infernal machine was flipped on. The dominate species seemed to tend to wear cowboy hats and sing modern country songs with uncanny vocal ability. This is obviously their night to shine, and you can tell that hours and weeks and years of preparation have gone into it. They work the crowd, walking around and unbelievably...THEY DON'T EVEN LOOK AT THE KAROAKE PROMPTER!!! It's like having your very own Garth Brooks concert, if you can stomach that. It is a complex game, this Karaoke. You have song selection, so that you "one up" the last persons song. You have the pros singing without prompting. Some guy even turned his back on the prompter! Sick! Another crooned a nice little ditty to his partner. The duets were out of this world. The non-caffeinated beverage was really starting to flow, and the exit door had completely disappeared without a trace. Next, Kyle MacLachlan in drag shows up, and it was the beginning of the end. I didn't notice any midgets, but I think they were in the back room playing pool. In a scene straight out of 8-Mile, the Karaoke became a pulpit for throwing down. Climbers vs. The Local vs. The Party Girls. vs. Kyle MacLachlan in Drag and her entourage. I couldn't tell you what I Karaoke’d. Apparently this is not something that you are in control of. I don't even think I knew the songs I Karaoke'd. At any rate, I can't tell you much more. This Karaoke shit does something to you. Somebody was dancing on the table. More non-caffeinated beverages were consumed. Fantastical beasts appeared and mythological creatures came and went as we succumbed to the faux Bavarian frenzy. The merry-go-round spun faster and faster until we were flung off into a black hole in the night sky. I'll never truly know what happened that night. I fell from the sky and into my bivy up Icicle Creek on Sunday morning. I had coffee (fully caffeinated) for breakfast, and repented at the Pearly Gates.