It is a faintly odd custom, but I really wanted to go to one, so after Institute I hung out with a group of people with a few very promising candidates for the post of dance-party-partner. We walked across town to eat mexican food, but I just ate pecan pie, since I had already had two dinners. (Well, three, if you count my snack of scraping out the Nutella jar and slicing gouda off the wedge an hour before my first dinner. Yes, I think I might have a problem).
Then we walked back across town to get McD's ice cream for dessert (don't worry, I completely passed on that course). By this time I had one guy psyched to go with me, but by the time we all got down to the subway, everyone was going their own way, and suddenly I found myself all alone. When I say suddenly, I mean all of a sudden! I think it has something to do with not understanding French, but the guy who was going to come with me ran off down one hall. I thought he was just catching up with someone to tell them something and that he would come back, but he never did. The remaining people took an escalator down and the last I heard my friend Vicki say was "We'll go dancing another day..."
Well then.
I decided to go dancing myself.
Or at the very least, I would walk past the firehouse on my street and see what was going on, if it was worth staying, if it was totally sketch, or if it was cool. Three blocks away from the party, the street was barricaded and streams of people were headed in the direction of really loud music. It was legit. I stood in line for half an hour, sharing my umbrella with a nice British girl, just to get in to the party.
Unfortunately, the music got lame five minutes after I got in, going from house mixes of top-40 songs to semi-rhythmic eighties rock, half of which was French. Everyone else loved it, sang at the top of their lungs, and all I could bring myself to do was step in time to the beat.
I attached myself to a small group of girls because dancing European men are very predatory, and I felt vulnerable alone. As it was, several of them hovered around our dancing circle, watching us, trying to engage us.
I got stepped on by a high heel, so that hurt.
I eventually reached the conclusion that the music wasn't going to get any better for dancine and left. I was right. As I was walking up the hill towards my house, I heard Latin music starting up. I'm glad I got away!
So: exciting but a bit of a let down.
I am going to try again tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment