Dance Fever

I swear, last night, Minnie Mouse, having sucked up a few balloons full of helium, was shouting jibberish into a culvert pipe.

That’s what it sounded like, anyway, as the DJ at the dance club I was at cranked up the tunes.

It’s always fun to go out dancing, even if I’m old enough to be the grandfather of most people in the room. It’s educational to see what those darn kids are up to today, and besides, I like bouncing around a dance floor like a blubbering idiot.

The first half hour of the night was a bit difficult, since all the music consisted of the aforementioned Minnie Mouse/helium/culvert speech, which doesn’t have a good beat and is not easy to dance to.

Most of the people out on the floor were not dancing with their partners, but with their iPhones and BlackBerrys. They moved their feet, staring intently at the small, glowing screens, pecking at the keyboard.  Took the sexiness out of dancing, in my opinion. An iPhone really can’t bust a move, sorry.

With Minnie Mouse squeaking on, I took a bathroom break, mostly because I’m always rewarded with snippets of absurd conversation in night club men’s rooms. I was not disappointed.

Said one skinny young guy to another, even more emaciated guy: “Dude, I was like watching her, like breast feeding, dude. Dude, it like freaked me out, dude.”

Dude.

Things perked up when the DJ finally got around to playing Lady Gaga, who is always a reliable crowd pleaser. She’s so good people actually put away their iPhones. We danced and gleefully shouted along to the lyrics:

“I want your ugly, I want your disease. I want your everything as long as it’s free!”

I guess you had to be there.

From there, the music went onto old disco remakes, as the muscular DJ on stage pretended to be a Diva, slinking around like Donna Summer on a cocaine high.

Ever the observant journalist, I watched people and gleaned some tips on what not to do when you go out dancing:

-Mesh shorts with a thong underneath are not that great a look. Trust me.

–Too many props kill the effect. I bet the guy in the elaborate hairdo, dark sunglasses, toothpick in his mouth and gangster jacket didn’t score. I’m just saying.

—Showing off your cleavage with a low cut glittery top is fine, but if you’re Rubenesque, you might not want to overdo it to the point where things fall out.

—If you weigh 100 pounds, and you  see somebody across the room you want to talk to, trying to shove a 200 pound guy (like me) out of the way is probably more difficult than you’d think.

—Throwing up on the dance floor kills the mood.

—If your contact lens pops out on a crowded dance floor, it’s probably a lost cause. Don’t bother looking for it. Even if you did locate it, do you really want to put it back in your eye? (See: throw up, above)

All in all, the night was a tremendous success. I got a bit of a cardio workout, I met some interesting people, and any chance to hear Lady Gaga is a triumph. I’ll be back with my dancing shoes as soon as I can arrange a date with a sexy iPhone.

2 Responses to “Dance Fever”

  1. Jeff Says:

    the mesh shorts and thong still leave shivers running through me. Yikes….What was he thinking as he passed the mirror…..Yikes…

  2. Denis Says:

    it was a guy!!!!!!

    next time you go please take photos!

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