-Friedrich Nietzsche
My idea of dancing is simple. Much to the bemusement of some of my newer friends and acquaintances, this simplicity is comprised of moving the lower seventy-five percent of my body at very rigid 48° angles while simultaneously punching the air with my right hand and singing into a very imaginary microphone positioned snugly in my left. Air guitar solos, involving full body spasms and power slides, can be interchanged when appropriate and the songs must be from either the Billboard Top 100 or from fifty years ago for me to recognize it.
But down here in BIGCOLLEGETOWN they play mostly country music, a genre where head-banging and fist-pumping (both which sound incredibly inappropriate upon their respective typing) are both unnecessary and frowned upon by the local population.
So I have had to learn how to two-step, a dance that requires actual skill for the co-eds to actually be impressed but has already prompted the creation of a surprisingly effective “pick-up line”: “I don’t know how to two-step. Can you teach me, please?”
In recent months, I’ve also figured out that I am near-deaf in both my ears, especially when the unseen DJ of the dancehall has raised the volume of “Livin’ On A Prayer” to a 7.2 on the Richter Scale, as evidenced by me screaming, “WHAT? WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU SAYING? SORRY!” to every already-nervous girl in front of me, as she tries to ask me the bland questions about my major and my hometown, as we boringly rotate counter-clockwise across the dance floor. I need to learn how to twirl these anonymous, sundressed partners so that they stop trying to have a conversation with me. And I need to get me hearing checked.
I guess I’ll just add it to the ever-growing to-do list, along with finding some country songs with heavy guitar solos.
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