Who Wants to Ride the Crazy Train?

At my grandparent’s fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration, they had karaoke at the bar and restaurant.  If you know me in real life, you know I love karaoke.  As mentioned in a previous post, my two go-to karaoke songs are “I Touch Myself” and “Baby Got Back.”  Clearly, neither of these songs was appropriate for a fiftieth wedding anniversary.  Therefore, I avoided these two tunes.

 

However, I had somehow rationalized that Ozzy Osbourne would be a perfectly appropriate and moving tribute to my grandparents.  This is the same grandmother, conversely, who earlier said to me that night, “I can’t hear a damn word he’s saying.  I wish he would shut the hell up already,” while my grandfather was making a touching toast to her.  Ozzy’s “Crazy Train” came on the karaoke screen.  I was ready to blast out my best Ozzy impersonation, but I needed the help of my father, a true metal head whose physical appearance quite resembles Rob Zombie (okay, well, it did until he began badly balding). 

I found my father across the room and held one of the microphones out toward him, hoping he would join his daughter for a duet.  When he shook his head in negation to my clear, unspoken request, I added some words to my entreat.  “John Boy,” I hollered into my own microphone (yeah, that’s what I often call my dad), “Get your ass up here and sing some god-damn Ozzy with your daughter! Yeah! Whoo! Rock on!” I’m pretty sure there was additional, non-descript, unintelligible hooting and hollering, which I heard in my head as “Fuck yeah! I’m awesome!” and everyone else heard as “It is time to take me home.”

He still shook his head and refused to join me, even though I had just kicked ass to some “Paradise City,” so I could not at all understand his hesitancy.  Resigning to myself that this would be a solo song, I then screeched into the microphone, “Hells yeah! Who wants to ride the mother fucking Crazy Train?”  To this, my cousin gave me the most awful look of disapproval I have ever witnessed in my life, and the bartender turned off the microphone, pried it from my hands, and then asked if anyone else would like to sing. 

Haters gonna hate, but I’m still going off the rails on this crazy train … and I love this ride mother fuckers!!

 

P.S. – Sorry, Grandma and Grandpa.  I love you.  Heart icon.