Standing in the small parking lot on a Friday night, it's obvious that Kumok Hwang's darkened restaurant is closed. But flickers of colorful light from the upstairs windows and a bright neon sign indicate something is going on above.
The hot-pink bulbs twist into one word: KARAOKE.
Mmmmm. Drunken singing. Bad '80s songs. A heckling crowd. Sounds enticing.
But up the dark stairs at the second level, there's no bar in sight. Just a hallway with four doors. Those flickers of light now swirl intensely, beaming out from each doorway.
Inside, lit by colorful disco balls, are private rooms where small groups of young Asian hipsters, mostly Korean, are doing karaoke. Rooms are rented by the hour, each equipped with a karaoke unit and a choice of 20,000 songs. As music blasts from the speakers, some patrons sit on sofas while others are up and dancing, checking themselves out in the mirrored walls. And, of course, one person is singing. Or trying to, at least.
This is how karaoke is done in Korea (and in Japan, where it originated). Boomtown Karaoke, nestled between a fire station and a Domino's Pizza near the Minneapolis campus of the University of Minnesota, is one of two places in the Twin Cities that offer the private-room experience for karaoke lovers.
In one room tonight is 23-year-old Tomoyuki Sugano, a Boomtown regular. His group reflects the intrigue that this style of karaoke holds abroad. Nobody in the room is from the United States. Sugano, who is Japanese, is trying to show his novice friends from Lebanon and France how to sing with passion. Karaoke is taken much more seriously in Asia.
"OK, I have to stand for this one," he says before belting out a Spice Girls hit. As he rocks back and forth -- one fist gripping the mike, the other clenched against his chest -- Sugano hits the chorus hard: