Pier 6

The good thing about Thunder Bay is that it's a small fringe. There are only a few dozen companies and everyone gets to know each other pretty well. You become a pretty tight knit community. There are the Water People, the Root of All Squares folks, the Tiny Tuna ladies, the Superbowl kids, Bremner and Lisa of Whiskey Bars, and Amy of the Fat Monologue Show. The Lesbian Triptychs hardly ever come out. And the Theron kids are still in high school. Oh and there's me. And Barnaby, the Flawed Genius.

One night it's arranged that we will all go out and sing Karaoke at a place called Pier 6 in the rustic, if not downright charmingly sleazy Shoreline Motel.

Barnaby and I are distracted by a Casino on the way over. "Hey," he says, "want to go in and see how much money we can win in 10 minutes? I've got $20." Sure, why not! We get held up at security. An unlikely pair. He only has ID from England. That's a little suspicious... And I have a drivers' license picture that doesn't look a lot like me anymore, with a birthdate on it that they find a little suspicious as well. "Do you have anything else?" they ask. Nothing with a picture on it. They continue to scrutinize. My God, this is Thunder Bay not Las Vegas. Who on earth would we be, KGB spies trying to inflitrate Canada's National Security? Ocean's Two? They eventually relent. We head to the Roulette table. I'm more interested in Blackjack. Barnaby is focussed now. "Nah, I always lose at Blackjack." Meanwhile I've never seen anyone win at Roulette. He explains the rules very carefully. I smile and not like I understand what he's saying. He lays down our chips. We lose. He lays down more chips. We lose. "You put something down," he instructs. I cautiously pick a line with my little blue chip. He places the rest. We win! It was my line that one! I think... I have no idea how any of this works, but I'm happy we're up. We lose once more, then win, and in the end we leave, as arranged, ten minutes later with $7 more dollars than we had going in. A good bargain, I figure. Barnaby figures it'll buy us the first couple of beers.

We arrive at the Shoreline. The other performers have already taken over the joint. Barnaby sings a beautifully terrible rendition of "In the MIdnight Hour" - he's a brilliant piano player and clown, and quite charming, so it's endearing to see him sell it whole heartedly without being able to find the key at all. I ham up "These Boots," and sit down again. A short, white haired, 67 year old almost spherical man comes up to us. He's completely enamoured with Barnaby and I. He says to me, "Oh, that was wonderful, dear. I really loved your singing." He shakes Barnaby's hand next, "Oh and you too." He introduces himself and sits down with us. "Can I buy you two a beer? What are you drinking?" He makes himself at home, smitten with the lot of us, and continues to silently supply Barnaby and I with beer the whole night. He is playing backup guitar in a band playing at BluesFest down by the Marina, and he loves how all these fringe performers liven up the place. He tells us of the songs he wrote for Charlie Pride and Anne Murray, and how he misses his friend Johnny (Cash). Someone sings Elvis' "I Can't Help Falling In Love..." and Blues Man asks me to dance. How can I resist? He sings to me while he leads me around the floor. Other couples come up. Jackie runs up and takes a picture. Then she grabs crazy-haired young tight-suited tall tall Connor with the titanium plate in his head from a childhood accident and she dances with him. He is smitten with her for the rest of the fringe. Back at the table there are more beers waiting. Blues Guy tells us of his son, who is a theatre promoter in Winnipeg. "He's gay, you know, but I'm okay with that. Hey, you were so beautiful up there, I just loved it. When are you going to sing again?" The night is getting late, and Barnaby has put in a request for Bohemian Rhapsody. "But you have to help," he says. Jackie wins $20 in a draw. The song comes up - it's the last one of the night. I tell Connor he has to help, he tells others, and pretty soon the whole lot of us are up there, arms around each other, belting out all the parts of Bohemian Rhapsody simultaneously. What a finish to the night! Blues Man is Rhapsodic. He can't get enough of us... "My Lady Friend would love to meet you, why don't you come over to my apartment and I'll play you a song..." It's lovely, but it's not in the cards. The bar closes down, and we trickle out to the street. It's a perfect night in Thunder Bay with only one question left: where to next?