Line Dancers Really Suck the Fun Out of a Nightclub
Last weekend I went out to dinner with my husband and another couple. After dinner we decided to visit a nightclub that caters to the “oldies” crowd; I’m referring to the music, not necessarily the age of the patrons. The music is great and we were looking forward to some dancing. Husbands sidled up to the bar and ordered cocktails while my girlfriend and I hit the dance floor. That’s when the trouble started.
The mood was palpable. I could hear the faint finger-snapping of West Side Story. A rumble was brewing. There we were, girlfriend and I, alone at one end of the floor staring into the glaring faces of rows and rows of angry warriors, all aligned in perfection. I felt like Mel Gibson in Braveheart. But these were not English warriors, no, these were Line Dancers. [SIGNUP]
They looked at us like we were the encroaching enemy, but there was no fear in their eyes because they had the mighty force of numbers. There were four, maybe five, rows of probably 10 dancers in each row. We were outnumbered. Undaunted, we began to dance to the music in our own interpretive way. We let our bodies react to the music in free-flowing unabashed movement. I’d liken it to George Michael’s Wham! style rather than the syncopated unison of our dance floor companions. While I felt our dance style was reflective of our creative mojo, I believe the Line Dancers saw us more as two Pig-Pens, surrounded by a cloud of chaos. Not a syncopated step in sight. In fact, about the only thing my friend and I seemed to be doing in unison was absorbing the distastefully hateful karma directed straight at our souls. Yup, there was a rumble a-brewin’.
After enough shoving and jostling and dirty, rotten, ugly, nasty facial expressions, we decided to call it quits. We were defeated. We lumbered off the dance floor having been shown the power of the many. I felt like the loser kid who has to gather up his ball and leave the playground because no one wants him there. Before we left, while finishing our cocktails, I took a close look at this social phenomenon, the Line Dancers, and made a few observations. Here’s what I’ve compiled as The Line Dancers Manual, as I see it:
1. Do not allow anyone else to share the hallowed ground that is rightfully yours. You’ve memorized all those steps so you deserve the space. And besides, all that jerky free-dance stuff is disruptive to the zen flow of Line Dancers doing their thing.
2. Dance like it’s your job. No smiling. Just putting in time until you get to go home. In fact, wear an expression of complete boredom. You’re so good at this stuff, you can do it when you’re half asleep without making a misstep.
3. Dangle your arms at your side as if you are so at ease that any greater level of confidence would require a recliner.
4. Know your craft. Learn each and every step to each and every line dance and execute with perfection while looking bored (see rule number 2.) And know which dance goes with which song. No room for error. Even the Bristol Stomp has its own line dance and, as ridiculous as this may sound, it’s not the Bristol Stomp.
5. Come prepared with your game face. If any Pig-Pens show up, be at the ready for some serious snarling and sneering, eye-rolling and head-shaking.
Just remember, do the head-shaking in unison.