Elaine? Is that you? It's me! Your dance instructor!

So NOW I can talk about it! It's about time! I have been sworn to secrecy by the most important and most secure methods of silence known to mankind...the surprise party invite. I have been living with this for quite some time and I felt like I was going to burst. Not because I wanted to tell Angelyn that she was going to have a party...but because I wanted to vent about my lack of dancing ability!

By now I'm sure nearly everyone has heard the embarrassing stereotype of the "white guy dance." I have seen countless comedians make tiny little hopping movements while moving hands jerkily side to side. Fans of Seinfeld have seen the Elaine dance. Her dancing was aptly described by George as a full body dry heave. I cannot laugh at those jokes. I am those jokes. I, actually, aspire to become as good as people who can dance like that. (well maybe not Elaine)

Don't get me wrong, I have rhythm. I can keep a beat with the best of them. I was once voted "most likely to be caught playing air drums on the steering wheel." During a song at a concert I am not the guy whose hands are together when everyone else's are coming apart. I just have a minor problem with communication. The signal from the music center of my brain does not make it to the proper appendages at the proper times. At least not in enough time to do anything meaningful. Picture the brontosaurus. Paleontologists have said that the brontosaurus' brain was so far away from its tail that one end didn't know what the other end was doing. I, unfortunately, can relate. My brain is similarly distanced from my tail. I once maimed a woman in an Electric Slide incident.

Now all of this does not mean that I don't like to dance...feeling uncomfortable is miles away from don't like to. I can break through the fear if certain conditions are met. First, darkness is key. The darker the better, obviously, but I can deal with a little mood lighting. A single candle in the far corner is best. Second, there needs to be many, many people. Now remember I am 6' 3" so loads of tall people is ideal but a minor throng is what I am looking for. Third, I must have the song memorized, or at least the tune. Knowing where the song is headed is the only way I have a fighting chance of not ending up in the emergency room dying of an acute case of embarrassment. Last, I must be with my wife. On this there is no negotiation. There are so few times that most of the criteria (or at least enough to get me on the floor) are met I wouldn't dream of going dancing with anyone else. The opposite is true of most of the women I know. Their thinking is that if "the stick in the mud" (that would be me) won't dance then I will go on the floor with the girls. I'm good with that. It's also nice to have a group of guys who have something in common to talk to. We can also be seen congregating outside dressing rooms in department stores...35% of us will be holding purses. My super power is putting down roots and becoming an immovable force when someone tries to grab my arm and pull me onto the dance floor. I am not above locking myself to a chair with handcuffs (Jake has a pair I can borrow).

So back to, gulp, dancing. Last night was the perfect storm, rhythmically speaking. We went to a place nearby called ShBooms. It called itself "a nightclub for adults." Read: Old people welcome. The first clue...they opened at 6:00 P.M. Nuff said, right? There were other clues like the TVs were all playing old ads for things like Nesquik chocolate milk powder and some really embarrassing ancient beer ads. They were probably more embarrassing due to the fact that I remembered some of them. We showed up at 6:20 for the surprise that was happening at 6:30...sorry Sean. (I drove really really fast to beat you there.) As we were waiting, I was surprised to hear so many songs that I recognized. (old) It was great. Potential! A little later a set of 6 foot blonds twins walked in. Nobody looking at me. Check. If only it were a little darke...click. Now if only they would play a song that I had heard a million times before...wait a minute, Journey? Here goes...
"Sweetie! Would you like to dance?"
Bingo!!

So that's how it happened. I was doing the closest proximity to dancing that I could muster and Sylvia was happy. I didn't even stop after the one song. I was on a roll and didn't want to lose momentum. I don't want to brag (yes I do) but Sylvia was first to suggest we go off the dance floor first (body mass and inertia will be covered at a later time). And the reason we went to sit down for a breather was we finally came to a song that Sylvia didn't like...not because she couldn't stop laughing. It was great to be able to make Sylvia happy like that. We may have to go back there again.

So Angelyn was celebrated, Sean raised the birthday party bar impossibly high (we need to talk Sean!) we all had a great time, and I danced...see you on YouTube! (if you are drinking milk while you watch you may want to put plastic wrap over the keyboard)