It’s Friday night, August 14th, 2026. I’m posted up at the Green Parrot Grill here in Chic’s Beach—muggy, humid, and alive.
Vaughn is behind the mixer, running karaoke like the ringmaster he is. Some voices are terrible. Some are genuinely good. All of them are having fun.
When I rolled in around 10:30, the place was packed. A couple of groups peeled out shortly after—maybe because I showed up draped in industrial chains, sipping coffee from Wawa like some kind of cyborg poet. Who knows. Dive bars are mysterious that way.
The address, by the way, is 4494 Lookout Road. I always forget the “Lookout” part, but 4494 is right there on the building.
Vaughn usually fires up around 9 or 10. Tonight, he’ll go till midnight or whenever. Kitchen closes a little earlier.
Asia’s behind the bar, super pregnant and still hustling—mad respect.
The crowd is chill. Rowdy, but in a good way. You can hear the hooting and hollering through the doors, but that’s the point, isn’t it? Karaoke is communal therapy with a microphone.
This place gets called a dive bar affectionately, and I lean into that. Down the road on the same side of the street, there’s HK on the Bay, and diagonal to us is a newer spot called Chic’s Laundry—looks cool, great food, I’m told. Funny thing: after their shifts, their employees swarm over here to the Parrot to unwind. That tells you everything. The Parrot isn’t just a bar; it’s the after-party for the neighborhood.
Now, karaoke here got me thinking about karaoke there—China, specifically. If you’ve never experienced a KTV (karaoke TV) over there, it’s a whole different animal. You rent a private room, bottle service, food, the works. And in some places, you can literally hire female companions to sing with you—women go there too, regardless of their sexual orientation, and hire some of these female staff members to sing with them so they’re not lonely or just to build their own party.
As a foreigner (laowai), I got waved into more rooms than I can count. People just wanted to share the mic, share the beer, share the chaos.
That generosity with strangers? That stuck with me.
Here at the Parrot, you’re out in the open—on stage for everyone, no filters, no safety net. But the spirit is the same: singing badly (or well) with people who don’t judge because they’re too busy singing themselves.
It’s now 11:11 PM. I’ve been rambling for seven minutes, and I’m shutting this down. I’ll post some photos of Vaughn and the crowd—perfect timing, the door just opened so you can hear the roar.
This is Hakeem Ali-Bocas Alexander, signing off for Monarch City Buzz. Yeah, I call it that because my office is right down the street from ODU in Norfolk—hyperlocal name, ripple effect.
But as you can see, the community spreads wide: Virginia Beach, Hampton Roads, anywhere I happen to land.
Come out to karaoke. Or you might catch Willie Byrn on acoustic some random week.
As Forrest said, life is like a box of chocolates. Out here at Chic’s Beach, you never know what you’re gonna get—but you can bet it’ll be loud, sweaty, and absolutely worth it.
Submitted by Hakeem Ali-Bocas Alexander
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