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Another bachelorette party that stayed, some smaller groups, and a birthday where everyone wore tiny hats – chef’s, pink western, sombreros, and fez all worn at a slight angle high upon their heads. Not a typical evening for sure.īetween 10 and 10:30 the place went from dormant to packed. We drank local beers and got sucked into watching You, Me, and Dupree. The bartender spent the next hour or so chatting us up and helping us order Chinese food for delivery, since her kitchen flooded in January and they hadn’t fixed it yet. She still needed him to stay in line, she said - especially after the last time when he told her and his partner to fuck off for no reason other than they were having a simple conversation. Later she told us that he had had a stroke not too long ago, and his filter was more than a little off. She told him never to do that again, but I personally have my doubts. “All people who come into this bar are customers, Carl,” sighed the bartender. “They were customers?” He truly looked confused. The slight bartender told Carl off for chasing customers away: A bachelorette party then came in, surprised by the lack of crowd then Carl said something offensive to the woman wearing an actual wedding dress, and they took off before the first song the group put into the jukebox was over.
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An older man who was there for the third time that day, drinking a ginger ale. There was also a regular, Carl, in there. When we arrived about an hour before the singing was to begin, we were the only ones in there, save for the staff. The bar itself was originally established as a WWII Club (complete with functioning periscope!), but now leaned toward being a lesbian bar. The Deuce was a lot of fun, and I would love to go back there again, but possible not for karaoke. As I approach the halfway mark on my trip, I’m starting to think about what makes an ideal karaoke experience, at least for me. I’m going to talk shop here for a minute.
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#I wanna take you to a gay bar song kittens full#
We hang around to hear a few more songs, but our night has been full enough. Kajuns, showing off Louisiana architecture.Īs I’m singing, the bar fills and many stand in line at the kiosk. I signed up for my song using a kiosk by the KJ booth, managing to be second on the list. Within minutes, the place fills up with singers. The game that drove us away a few hours ago was ending as we got there (the home team lost), so the group of old men sitting at a table in front of the big screen got up, bringing their bags of chips and salsa with them. The KJ here also has cat ears, though hers are fuzzy green. A poster of Orlando’s victims is displayed in the front window. Kajun’s was off the main drag, but the area was still packed thanks to assortment of bars and an art show we park on the median. Walk up drink window, next to some great jazz. Then, it was time for bar #2, or the first one we tried, depending on how you want to look at it. Music poured out from the bars – jazz, blues, rock, mariachi. We paused to see if a clown and drunk guy were going to come to blows, and I bought a souvenir. You come here because it’s karaoke on Bourbon Street on a Saturday night.Īfter the Cats Meow, we explored the area, took a lot of pictures, and ordered drinks at a walk-up window. You come here because they live stream your performance. You come here because of the location, whether intentionally or not. There is a very limited song list, but in a way that’s not why you come here. It meant you would get three (watered down) shots in your drink. We made it 10 minutes before the happy hour ended, which advertised “3 for 1” drinks, which we assumed meant we would get three drinks for the price of one. Then there was a mystery person, in a booth up above, choosing the tracks and keeping the music going. An older man in a Superman T-shirt and bandanna entertained the crowd, getting people to dance on stage to videos between singers (he would sometimes sing to the videos as well). A young woman in ripped jean shorts and metal cat ears managed the list, writing the names of singers and those on deck on a glow-in-the-dark board. Still, the place was packed with tourists and wedding parties and smelled of vomit and bleach. That’s why our first karaoke choice, Kajun Club, wasn’t having its usual early show. So does the fact that there was a Saints game on. I guess showing up before 8 and in New Orleans’ off-season helps. I thought there was no way we were going to get me in there, but it happened. The Cats Meow (no apostrophe) is on Bourbon Street.