Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Blister in the Sun

A teenage girl at the bus stop, alone, earbuds in, dancing like she’s tryin’ to be famous. I’m not talking about tapping her foot while she waits for the number 49. I’m talking full-on spins and dips, arms flailing. Eyes closed, of course, cuz you wouldn’t want to see the condescending smiles of the passers-by. Like me. I’m wondering if Prince Charming finds that sort of behavior adorable?
I can’t remember ever doing that as a teenager. Currently, I dance down the aisles at the grocery store, singing along to the muzak or entertaining the 3 year old with various Wiggles songs. But as a teenager? I loved to dance—in my room or at a function, but never at bus stops. Ditto with the singing. One exception: Buttercup and I used to sing in the car. Loudly. Especially if a certain prude-y girl was in the back seat and Violent Femmes came on the radio. I won’t repeat the words to the song here out of respect for her parents, but we enjoyed making said girl blush (you have no idea how funny that all is unless you know Buttercup and Prude-y Girl, which you don’t, so I’m sorry for the insider statement.)
Another story about music. When I was 17, the church I went to sponsored a dance-athon. I got pretty close, in the final 10 people. And after 2 hours of dancing, I seriously couldn’t move my feet any more. Migaloo came up on stage and literally held me up through an entire song—a 2.5 minute recess from having to carry my own body weight. I’d like to say that the respite gave me the energy I needed to win, but in truth I lasted another 10 minutes and then asked the judge to call me out so I could finally sit down. (Pride wouldn’t let me just stop, which is another silly thing about teenagers.) Point is, now that I’m old and past public appearances, losing the contest doesn’t seem to matter. But those friends, the ones who lifted me up? You get the idea. (Another aside: Migaloo became a professional lifter-upper and married a woman who radiates compassion, so once in a while, life works out just the way it should.)
Point is, if a friend were with me at the bus stop and really needed to dance, I’d go ahead and dance with her. Prince Charming or no, I’d let loose. Of course, I’d ask to move to a more secluded spot first, perhaps indoors…


buttercup said...

I am trying to decide if I would've danced at a bus stop, because I definitely would have danced anywhere else. Yes. I would have danced at a bus stop and you would have danced with me if I had asked you too because you're that kind of friend. But would you dress like a man while your friend is dressed in a skin tight stretchy dress and fishnet stockings and go out in public because your mom needed milk or some other trivial thing like that? Yes.Yes, you would!

And poor Prude-y girl. The lyrics weren't THAT bad were they? I just turned that song up really loud in my car and sang loudly with it. I was alone.

Megan said...

ummm...I have to admit I would be the girl on the street dancing. I'm a big fan of the dancing advertisements on the street and I believe that it would be a very fun job. But for once when I'm jumping down the street dancing and singing my heart out I would love it if my husband would join in, but that will only happen in my dreams.

Migaloo said...

Wow, you have so scored points with me. That you would even remember that I was instrumental in prolonging your agony for 12.5 minutes is quite endearing.

One of my favorite memories involves dancing in the street. Actually, dancing on a bench in the entry to the Brick Oven in Provo on the way home with Astrid after having danced at Plastique (did I stuff enough info into one sentence?). It was about one in the morning and the place was deserted, but for some reason they had the tunes going outside the resto, so we stayed and partook for a half hour or so. Private dance party. Totally awse.

I so would have been dancing; I enjoy the attention, and I was quite good at it back in the day. Nowadays, my back is still sore two weeks after the comparatively moderate gyrating at Triplightly's birthday luau. Now I have to learn to dance well with less contortion.

Somebody had better e-mail me and tell me who Prud-y Girl was (Yeah, I should probably be able to guess) so that my curiosity can be satiated. Buttercup? Mama?

Psst - yes, we are home from Germany. I may never blog about it (my skills seem to be more suited to commenting about others' blogs), but you can check out the Compassionate One's efforts at if you'd like to know how it went. The sanitary napkin went unused. I plan to retell the story at his wedding reception.

BlueSkiesBreaking said...

I'd dance in the street today. Yes, poorly, and off-beat, but I'd do it. And then you could laugh at me as you drove by.