So I go to the entertainment group guy to find out what the hell is going on, since no one explained to me where I was singing or what was actually going down. He tells me that there's been a slight change in events, and I am like, Oh shit. He tells me to come with him, and so I follow him to the back of the expo center. He decides to tell me that oh, I am no longer singing the anthem by myself--and I am like, umm...what?--that I am singing it with two people from the Army and am I okay with that? Okay, we all know that I am not okay with that, but because I didn't want to sound like a monster bitch and I wasn't sure if my GM knew what was going down, I said yeah, I was okay with that. So I go and meet these Army people, who I immediately decided were not the cool sort of Army people. On the contrary, they seemed very nerdy and uncool. I sucked up my boiling inner rage and smiled in a very convincing delightful fashion. The entertainment guy asked me if I knew how to harmonize. Um, duh. I was in choir from 4th grade to 8th grade. You definitely pick up harmony over eight years.
I smile convincingly again and say I was in choir for ten years--I decided to beef up my expertise because these two Army geeks definitely reeked of pure inexperience. I have to go sing with these idiots, and I must add that hey, the fight begins in five minutes. I sigh and internally roll my eyes, beginning to sing with these fools. As soon as they opened their mouths and began to sing, my inner hypothesis was immediately proven correct. They sucked. They knew absolutely nothing about harmony at all. I tried to sing above them to try to get some sort of harmony started, but I only had a few successful moments of harmony. By now my tumultuous sea of rage is seething just below the surface of my fakeass smile, but I decide that I am fucked and I have to make the most of it.
We roll on up to the cage, and I am figuring that hey, at least I will still look hot. They immediately put the brakes on that one. Someone shoves a white Army tee shirt over my head, and hey, the stupid shirt is two sizes too fucking big. Perfect. I am past smiling at this point, and I strut angrily into the cage. I am then informed that my heels have to come off because they will ruin the mat--why the hell didn't someone tell me that before I went shopping? I am furious. I leave the cage, and they announce my name--which, of course, is pronounced wrong. That is nothing new, people see Lashawn Chillious and immediately get intimidated. I am not pissed about that. I am pissed that my moment of shininess is being shitted on. I have to throw the boots on the ground and run into the cage in my socks and this stupid as hell shirt. I am beyond looking like nothing is wrong--they already started singing without me! I stomp over and discover that I HAVE NO MICROPHONE. How am I supposed to sing without a microphone??? I am so pissed that all I can do is stand there in a silent fury and attempt to sing along with these idiots. I am so mad that my throat goes dry and nothing comes out.
After I am done, I grab my shoes and go to my job's table. Everyone is stunned by what just went down. I am stunned, and I am furious and I yank the shirt off and put my boots back on. I am embarrassed and pissed and decide to go find my GM. I find him in the back of the expo center, and the first words out of his mouth are "What the fuck was that?" He had no idea what had just gone down. He thought that I was still the only one that was going to sing--smooth move, don't tell the guy in charge that you are fucking with the show. I am told that he is going to talk to Mr. Douchey Entertainment guy and that I am singing alone at his next fight.
After that moment of unparallelled suckiness, the night was great. The fights were good, and I had a good time with my friends.