I like the way you work it
I got to bag it up
In the background there is a wall of people arms writhing, hips shaking under flashing green pink and white lights. They cheer when the right song comes on and each song is, by turns, right. At the fore of the wall is a girl stepping backwards arms extended and holding those of a reluctant boy. She is attempting seduction in a public place and the boy is going along with it. Her shirt has been unbuttoned strategically so that even I can see more than I want to. She’s screaming the song but only someone right next to her would hear her if they weren’t looking. Her boy is shaking his hips and turning his head. The lights flash over her for a minute and she looks like she is smiling. She lets go of his hands and she joins in the chorus of writhing arms and other body parts, she is part of the wall.
In the foreground a man and woman, too drunk to care about moving towards the dance floor or just comfortable in their own spot are making a spectacle of themselves. There is no light on them, they are a safe 20 feet from that. She has a pale pink prom-dress with black lace near the top reaching up her straps and over her shoulders, he is in a full tuxedo and they are ridiculously happy. With each turn of the song and each thump of bass they shake and croon. They work in unison, some sort of strange choreography, mirrors of one another. Arms out, hips turning, and bodies lunging. They fall back and close in together, their faces are directly in front of each other, then as far away from one another as they can be. In the dim light of a dive bar this sort of spectacle is hard to describe as anything other than unbelievable.
Someone I’m with, previously part of the writhing background wall has snuck up on me. She’s standing behind me dancing and having a good time, she’s also talking to me. “Why are you still here?” the music camouflaged her words over and over again I have to figure out what she’s saying. It’s one of those bars. It’s late, loud and obnoxious. I can’t get my attention off of the dancing couple in front of me. They aren’t graceful by any means but they know what they’re doing.
“I’m watching.” What I’ve been accused of doing for a long time now. Here, a saying popped up in to my head, something about stop watching, start living. I shook it off, let it pass, whatever that expression is. She says something else to me. I think its something about dancing, about how much fun everyone is having. I nod and by the time I’m finished, she’s on her way back to the wall, I’ve lost her.
I know in my mind
maybe in time
I can get you in my ride
Behind the choreographed dancers a group of men leaned on a thin bannister. They were well dressed and they knew it. They were haughty and waiting for women to walk up to them, as if it was their lot in life to be relegated to wait. If this were the twenties they would have been sharper, wearing vests over button-ups and bowlers or fedoras on their heads. Here they had loose-fitting but exotic cloth shirts with gaudy gold watches and well maintained facial hair. The lines of their beards are so thin and straight you might have questioned if one of them had a ruler on them at all times. Currently, it appeared, they were exactly where they wanted to be, not a single one of them talking, not even looking at each other. They faced out overlooking the crowd, waiting for that first brave soul to start up a conversation.
Next to me, out of the fray a table of 8 sat down. They were out-of-place, like they were waiting for a server to come around, take their burger and fries order while enjoying a couple milkshakes over polite conversation. They were college friends, in the process of strengthening or losing close friendships.They talked in groups of two and three, the girls had their own and the boys broke in to two. Generally the boys left the table to bring back pitchers of pale beer. Then the girls held their hands high and danced in their seats. Stood, danced in the thin aisles between chairs then sat down again to rest. One sat on her knees over top of a stool and continued dancing while everyone paid attention to their alcohol. She bore no displeasure, she was smiling and laughing.
This time I spotted my friend coming. She walked behind the girl knelt on a stool, putting her hands up in case the girl decided to fall as she passed behind her. She hopped over a purse in an aisle on her way to my table. Her hair was disheveled, a product of her dancing in the wall. “Still watching?” I could hear her this time.
“Can’t help it. It’s fascinating.” My eyes were on the stool-knelt girl. She was shouting something at one of her friends who had gone to get more to drink. “Have you seen those guys by the column over there?” I pointed.
“Which guys?” She followed my arm. “oh yeah, they’ve been hitting on me for the last couple minutes. I had to get away from them.” I found her words strange, they looked like they were in the exact same position I’d seen them in earlier. “This song just brings out the crazy in everyone.”
“No doubt” I joked, or tried to. My words were lost as the song transitioned in to a poppy Spice Girls hit.
“OOOOH!” my friend ran-danced away. She passed the stool-kelt girl, now happy with a drink in her hand, and the venus fly traps of men waiting to snap up a woman at the first opportunity. Head-long she raced towards her desire, finding her place in the wall. Once more unto the breach!
Please excuse if I come across rude
that’s just me
that’s how a player’s got to be
