Some days are just so much better than others. Some days are for staying in bed and avoiding the rest of the world at all costs. Sure. Those happen. They’re usually referred to as weekdays. But then some days are for singing at the top of your lungs in the car and not worrying about the person next to you at the stop light staring at you with a smirk on his face. And this is coming from the guy who was massively embarrassed to be voted “Most Easily Embarassed” in high school… Ironic, huh? But when the German version of Nina’s 99 Luftballons comes on, you just have to sing along, even if you don’t know a stitch of German and are just making random noises until the chorus comes back around.
I’m a pretty impressive dancer too, as long as I’m not observed and I stay seated. So I guess you could call me a double threat when I’m driving. A triple threat if you add in my driving skills.
A number of years ago (you know…once upon a time…) I went out with some co-workers on a Friday night, thinking we were just going to hang out at a bar, have a few drinks, listen to some music and recover from a long week. However… (You know what? If I ever have a biography written about my life, that’s going to be the title. However… I think it fits perfectly.)
But back to the point… Instead of a relaxing night out, I was being set up with a friend of a friend. It happens. People try to set their friends up and see what crazy thing happens. It’s usually painful and awkward for those involved. But at least it makes for some great stories. And, in this case, that’s all it made for.
The club we went to was loud and packed, but somehow we managed to luck into a table where we could sit and comfortably watch the people around us. Or so I thought… When a few of our group got up and headed over to the dance floor, my “date” took my hand and pulled me along with them. And, on our way, she leaned in close and whispered a frightening phrase in my ear… “I hate guys that can’t dance.” No pressure, right?
The rest of the night was pretty much a blur. Of course that might be for the best. We were out there on the dance floor for a while and she didn’t ditch me so I must have done all right. I don’t remember bumping into too many people, or smacking anyone with an arm that flailed out in a move that was uniquely all my own. So we’ll call it a success.
There was no follow up date (though that was a mutual decision that I believe had nothing to do with my moves). She could have been jealous of my skills… You never know. I’ve just got to have confidence, let loose and who cares what anyone thinks. After all, AC/DC’s You Shook Me All Night Long just came on. And I’m gong to belt it out, even if the window is rolled down and everyone can see and hear me at every stoplight along the way. Because life’s way too short to hold in your swag…