Mad Scientess Jane Expat (nanila) wrote,
Mad Scientess Jane Expat

Slow, slow, quick-quick, slow

We touched down and were towed with agonizing slowness to the arrival gate. When the captain turned off the Fasten Seatbelt sign, we all shot out of our seats, wincing and grimacing. As we scrabbled in the overhead compartments for our luggage, music started playing at us, one of those bouncy, happy pop songs from the 1950s. I grabbed the seat in front of me and yanked my upper body to the right to crack my back. When I eased around again, I saw the elderly gentleman in front of me step into the aisle. Without warning, he started to wiggle his hips in time to the music. People started to stare. He kept dancing, oblivious to their looks. The woman beside me nudged me and giggled, "What a dork."

I looked at her. "Yeah," I said. "I think it's the best thing I've seen all day."


I passed a car that was blaring hip-hop this morning on my way to work and I had to make a conscious effort not to start walking in time to the beat. If I had been able to identify the song, I would have had to stop myself from pausing in the crosswalk to boogie. I can't help it. I always want to dance.

Poll #500704 Do you dance?

Well? Do you?

Even if I don't like the song, my feet start tapping when I hear a beat.
Sometimes. I can take it or leave it.
Only if I'm really drunk.
Tags: poll
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