Simon's school has a dance tonight. And the memories come flooding back to the gymnasiums at the junior high school and the Masonic Temple and the Elks' Club, sites of many teen-hormone charged affairs. Youth dances, as I believe they were called back in the day, were huge in my hometown.
I loved school dances. The anticipation and preparation (curling iron and hair spray, jeans and a shirt shot with metallic thread). The smell of fear as one summoned courage to ask another to dance. Getting crazy excited when your favorite song was played. Feeling superior to the morons who were caught sneaking in shampoo bottles filled with schnapps.
Nothing beats 80s music for dancing, especially the hyper-frentic pogo-ing we used to do. It's no surprise then that on the rare occasion I go clubbing as an adult, I have no idea what to do with my hands and feet.
But, these are shades of the future. Tonight's event is a family dance, and it's rumored to be the funnest EXPO event of the year. On the drive to school this morning, Simon wondered if he would have to ask anyone to dance.
You can always ask me, little buddy.
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