Bucket List: 1 down, 13 to go

You know how some people are born performers and just naturally like being on stage? I am not one of those people.

So just for kicks, I thought I'd put perform on stage on my bucket list and maybe I'd enjoy it. I guess I thought that eventually when I did it, talent would come pouring out of me like a slot machine jackpot, well that's what I was hoping. Yes, I know -come back down to earth, little one.

Anyway I dropped it on my things to do and I forgot about it. Until it occurred to me some time last week that I'm approaching thirty and I have done close to nothing on it. It was time to get a move on.

So the challenge was: perform live on stage and clearly there were certain limitations to go with it. Like as in, I'm not going to squeeze myself into a box vis a vis Cirque Du Soleil, I don't have time to audition for the community centre performance of Les Mis and I honestly have no ambitions to be a rockstar [if I became once incidentally that would be okay though]

So the easiest way to do this would be of course to participate in a live karaoke session. Instant audience, no rehearsals and pants-peeing terror. In my dreams, I could see people booing me off stage, I would become the Rebecca Black of Chinatown, shunned and reviled for my inability to keep pitch.

I recruited a whole bunch of my closest friends so they could fight off the tomato-throwing contingent and the scene was set.

Location: Covent Garden. Notorious live karaoke joint in Sydney. Full of space cadet-y bartenders and regulars with bad haircuts and big performances.

I had never been to Covent Garden and for some reason I was expecting it to be much bigger and full of talentless mumbos like me. Of course, I was wrong and it was not full of talentless mumbos. I started having my first panic attack at some lady's rendition of Rolling in the Deep and then I had my second one when an office worker belted out the operatic version of The Prayer complete with high notes. Uh huh, the italian version of The Prayer as originated from Andrea Bocelli. That one.

So I started tippling at the wine bottle (it's a wonder I didn't slug from the whole thing!) and the more nervous I got and the longer I waited, the more the room started to fill up with people. I had thought that Covent Garden would be quiet and uncrowded. Wrong Assumption no 2. Lady, next time do your research!

If I had been by myself I would have started edging quietly towards the door but as it so happens, eight or nine of my nearest and dearest were there and I wasn't going anywhere. Erk. ND was giving me a Rocky Balboa massage while the others were giving me words of encouragement and promising not to boo me (aww, you guys!).

So I mounted the stage and I saw a million pairs of eyes looking at me expectantly and as I made my dedication, I was drowned out by cheers. The cheers of my friends. Surveying the room, I could see Egg and St Mary off to the frontside videoing, and everyone else at the table making woo noises. ND had stood on his chair so I could see him the most clearly and he was beaming at me.

I closed my eyes and launched into a rendition of 'Hit Me Baby One More Time' (oh come on, what did you expect?) and it wasn't bad, it wasn't great and I certainly am never going to be the next .. Britney but it was kinda fun and when I finished the DJ whispered to me 'that was okay.' As I got off the stage, I was rushed by everyone for hugs and love and everyone told me how proud they were of me. And I was dazed, really dazed and all I could think of was 'fuck, how lucky am I? I really have the best friends in the world.'

Sometimes that kind of outpouring is a revelation in itself.