Palm Springs Eternal
Palm Springs dies every night at 11 p.m.
This weekend's leadership retreat for work is the third time I've been to Palm Springs; last year's retreat was the second, and a friend's bachelor party a few years ago was the first. Each time I've been, the city's downtown, a thoroughfare of restaurants, pubs, and novelty shops, seems as increasingly barren as the desert surrounding it. Expecting to karaoke after a late dinner, my coworkers and I arrived at Peabody's Cafe around the aforementioned 11 p.m., only to coattail its last call. We found a faint heartbeat in the Village Pub, where a raucous band covered some of the songs we would've sung anyway, but even after a few drinks and a few more laughs at some hapless barflies' expense, I was still disappointed in this getaway town. While my friends were eyeballing the babes, I lamented the loss of my first love -- yes, the karaoke. I've had a few songs brewing for a while, just about ready to percolate. (I'm thinking of you, Billy Joel's "Big Shot.") Well, if Palm Springs doesn't want it, it doesn't get it.
I never thought that I'd ever review an entire city, but sometimes even nothing demands something.
Addendum (added 8/6/07): I wrote the first part of this entry on a disappointed Saturday morning, but I returned to Peabody's on an optimistic Saturday night and discovered an entirely different scene. Busting at the seams, Peabody's became a karaoke oasis! By nine o'clock the regular crowd had shuffled in (so regular in fact that the owner presented a beloved customer with a big birthday cake, a moment that was completely charming), and by 10:10 p.m. I was singing about it via Billy Joel's "Piano Man." ("Big Shot" wasn't on the list. Next time, Palm Springs . . . NEXT TIME!) The KJ was a humbly talented performer that only allocated stage time for himself during lulls in the rotation, which, to my surprise, was "tickering" on the monitors between songs. Yes, you could actually count down to your turn, a knowledge some KJs horde like an UFO cover-up. Full disclosure, audience participation, and moderately priced drinks -- the next time you find yourself in Palm Springs, find yourself in Peabody's, too . . .
. . . but only on Saturdays.
This weekend's leadership retreat for work is the third time I've been to Palm Springs; last year's retreat was the second, and a friend's bachelor party a few years ago was the first. Each time I've been, the city's downtown, a thoroughfare of restaurants, pubs, and novelty shops, seems as increasingly barren as the desert surrounding it. Expecting to karaoke after a late dinner, my coworkers and I arrived at Peabody's Cafe around the aforementioned 11 p.m., only to coattail its last call. We found a faint heartbeat in the Village Pub, where a raucous band covered some of the songs we would've sung anyway, but even after a few drinks and a few more laughs at some hapless barflies' expense, I was still disappointed in this getaway town. While my friends were eyeballing the babes, I lamented the loss of my first love -- yes, the karaoke. I've had a few songs brewing for a while, just about ready to percolate. (I'm thinking of you, Billy Joel's "Big Shot.") Well, if Palm Springs doesn't want it, it doesn't get it.
I never thought that I'd ever review an entire city, but sometimes even nothing demands something.
Addendum (added 8/6/07): I wrote the first part of this entry on a disappointed Saturday morning, but I returned to Peabody's on an optimistic Saturday night and discovered an entirely different scene. Busting at the seams, Peabody's became a karaoke oasis! By nine o'clock the regular crowd had shuffled in (so regular in fact that the owner presented a beloved customer with a big birthday cake, a moment that was completely charming), and by 10:10 p.m. I was singing about it via Billy Joel's "Piano Man." ("Big Shot" wasn't on the list. Next time, Palm Springs . . . NEXT TIME!) The KJ was a humbly talented performer that only allocated stage time for himself during lulls in the rotation, which, to my surprise, was "tickering" on the monitors between songs. Yes, you could actually count down to your turn, a knowledge some KJs horde like an UFO cover-up. Full disclosure, audience participation, and moderately priced drinks -- the next time you find yourself in Palm Springs, find yourself in Peabody's, too . . .
. . . but only on Saturdays.