, , , , , , , , , ,

Last night I met some people visiting from London and we became instant friends.  One of the guys told me “You’ve got good banter…  We call what we’re doing here “banter”.”  But he said it more like “baanta”.  They were adorable.  And drunk.  And on vacation.


We decided to merge our international groups and head over to Kung Fu Saloon for a little more action.  Skeeball action, that is.  Inside the bar, it’s like a Chuck E Cheese for adults but without the ball pitt or those groundhogs you smash with a puffy mallet.  Too bad, I know, but at least that dumb coin push game wasn’t there- the one that’s supposed to push off the other coins but yet the ones on the edge are magically suspended and won’t fall.  Grr.

Digression.  Back to the Kung Fu.

It’s a nice little set up.  There are a variety of games and arcades to play around the bar in the center of the room and the crowd is predominately hipsters and impressionable college girls.  The point I’m trying to make is that it was not a “dance club” and many are just standing around looking at other people.

So as I’m talking to my local friends, I see the two guys from London start dancing while the girl of their group was mesmerized with rolling the wooden sphere into the 100 point hole.  The London guys don’t seem to notice a group of guys snickering at them.  And I can’t have that.  Not with my new friends.  Not on my watch.

So of course, I go dance with the London guys and kick the whole thing up a notch.  This is why I should wear a cape at all times.

Well the next thing you know, a few other random, though mostly wasted, people join in.  Though not everyone on the new dance floor has mastered the drinking/dancing balance thing- it’s now officially a party.

I look over my shoulder and invite my cousin and her friend to join us dancing but they squirmishly declined by emphatically shaking their head “no”.  Boo.  I knew they wanted to.  Dancing is good clean fun.  Duh.

“Why not?!” I ask. “Who do you know here?!”

They admit they don’t know anyone.  But, the potential was there that someone they know could come in, and see them… *gasp* having fun.

Pffft!  “Life is short, Man.  Just dance.” Dance Club - Prauge

And though we often hear the cliche “dance like no one is watching”, I think that’s dumb.  They are watching.  Oh, they’re watching all right.  You are being brave, and vulnerable, and living in the moment.  And that’s magnetic.

So instead, I say “Dance like you’re on vacation and no one knows you.”   If it helps, pretend you are traveling through a city you don’t know, with people you don’t know.  You have a tough day job and you’re ready to blow off some steam in a new place.  Like when you danced on top of the bar in Cancun.

Ok, maybe not that extreme.  But cut loose a little.  The only thing keeping you from having a good time is you thinking about what other people are thinking about.  I’m exhausted just thinking about it all.

Another key to your “dance vacation” is to commit to it and “own it”.  This is most easily accomplished with a simple smile while moving and grooving.  Anyone that takes cheap shots at someone having a good time is a jerk, and we all innately know it.  Shame on them.

Remember, you’re having a good time, not performing for the Queen.  Get over yourself and shake what your Momma gave ya.

In closing, I say, the next time you find yourself tapping your feet and bouncing your shoulders, just go ahead and break out into dance.  Why not?  You can be on vacation whenever you decide.  Most people regret the fun they didn’t have and the chances they didn’t take.  Don’t be that guy.  Be the London guys who could care less ’cause they don’t know anyone in the room.

Forget the blonde/brunette fun war.  Travelers have more fun.  

And you know thisss…

PS: Have a cocktail if you need the extra push, but don’t forget to have some water in there too.  Equilibrium is “in”.  Stay in your lane.  No one wants to dance with or near a weeble wobble.