"Why don't you try to ruin some Led Zeppelin?"

Here are a couple of photos of me in Luang Prabang. Top one the mekong is behind me, the middle is next to an elephant statue at a buddhist temple, and the bottom is a panorama from the top of Phu Si--the tallest hill in Luang Prabang that overlooks the main area and is a must climb.

After returning from the waterfall, we all decide to meet up at this beautiful bar/restaurant overlooking the Nam Pha river--it definitely lived up to its name of "utopia"--and people start to talking. One of the guys mentions that a friend of a friend of a travelling buddy is going to be playing live music at a local bar tonight. Considering there really isn't much activity in Luang Prabang at night (other than the night market), we decide to head there after having dinner and meeting up with more people.

Knowing the traveller stereotype, I'm afraid of what I am going to witness. After going to this outdoor bar and drinking a lao lao cocktail--it was the cheapest thing available, and it was 2 for 1--it also tasted like sour stale lemonade, which was glad that I used my extra one on another person, the american female journalist (AJ from here on out).

We sit through a breakdancing performance by some local Lao teenagers, and though I realize that they are honestly trying to do a good job, after having lived in New York for a year and seen breakdancers on the subway, in subway stations, and in parks, I have to say that it was a bit of a let down, and they needed a wee bit more practice. After knowing what I know now, though, I would have gladly watched them perform the entire night if it meant that the main act never took the stage.

I have no musical talent whatsoever. I was probably responsible for several of my violin teacher's heart attacks, can't sing to save my life, and have a musical taste that some people find abhorrent and vomit inducing. And those people are the nice ones. That said, I know I have no talent, and do not put myself up on stage and act like I have talent when I clearly do not. I also have no desire to add to excedrin or tylenol's bottom line, which is why I do not even try to perform.

The guy walks on stage. I am already dreading the experience simply by looking at the guy. He has shaggy black hair and a full beard. Strike one. He is carrying an acoustic guitar case. Strike two. He is accompanied by several of his "Vang Vieng" tanktop wearing backpacking buddies (more on that in a moment). Strike three.

So, I generally ignore the guy and keep talking with AJ and several of the other people, as he appears to be playing either original stuff or Jack Johnson/indie songs fitting a guitar. AJ and I head to the other bar, just a block away, to see if there is anything else going on. It is filled with tank top wearing british gap year backpackers, as well as curiously being the site for a Lao child's birthday party--talk about a bizarre site, a children's birthday party next to some drunken backpackers. We make a beeline back to the original bar.

We get a pitcher or two of beer and are soon joined by an Australian couple. On this trip I've encountered plenty of Australians, and discovered that from 18-25, Aussies tend to be the stereotypical fun loving immature, over the top, drunks. After about 25 or so, they start to mellow out and are truly fun to hang out and have a beer or two with. They were on the good side of 25, and were great to hang out with.

AJ and I are having fun just talking and shooting the breeze with them, generally ignoring the musical trainwreck occurring on the stage about 10 yards from us. That's when I hear "knock, knock, knockin on heaven's door." I listen more closely, and my worst fear is confirmed. The guy is covering guns and roses' "knocking on heaven's door," and doing so horribly. Notice to any aspiring musicians out there: do not, under any circumstances, try or pretend to try to cover Guns n Roses. It is an abominable sin. You cannot replicate the unique screeching tone of Axl Rose's voice. The only thing worse than doing it on an acoustic guitar is doing it a cappella.

I am ticked off--and slightly tipsy--and AJ and the australian couple start paying even closer attention to the guy. Next up on horrendous cover list: "Leaving on a Jet Plane."

This is going to make me sound like a jerk, but this guy was really bad--and he didn't know it either. His idiot backpacker friends were all encouraging him to sing more and were shouting out requests. Meanwhile, AJ and the australians start throwing ideas of what to yell at him.

Yes, I was that guy. I was a heckler. In all fairness, though, the guy deserved it. I was about ready to vomit when he started to cover Outkast's "Hey Ya." Buddy, just so you know, memorizing various songs and strumming your acousting guitar to the tune of it doesn't make you an artist. It makes you a junior high student trying to learn the guitar.

So, we start tossing out ideas as the covers get any worse. I hate putting myself out there sometimes, so its nice to have some back up--two australians certainly qualify as backup, especially when one has informed us that the worst insult to an aussie is taking their beer. I start off with "you are giving my dead grandmother a headache," and it continues to other lines.

He promises that it will be his last song, to which all of us are grateful for, but with the encouragement of his backup crew, he decides to play a couple of encores. We all start screaming, "No" "You promised it would be your last song" "Get off the stage." People are shooting us dirty looks and giving us "WTF?" stares. I respond with the same. It's not my fault I don't believe in lying to someone and telling them that they are great when they all they do is remind me of the stereotypical guitar player in your college dorm that sits in the entry way and jams all day.

Out of nowhere, when there is a dead silence, AJ shouts "Why don't you try to ruin some Led Zeppelin?" I start laughing so hard I nearly spit out my beer and have to sit down my beer. If there had been any room on the floor, I would have hit the floor I was laughing so hard. The sheer timing was impeccable.

Thankfully, the guy heads off, and we leave, exchanging contact info with the aussies.

Next posts (probably later tonight or a couple tmw morning)--my letter to all gap year backpackers, luang prabang day 3--charlie goes shopping at the market!, bus ride to Phonsavanh and my day in phonsavanh.