Saturday, January 22, 2011

Some days you gotta dance

I was sitting at the corner of Neighborhood Coffee Shop and Some-Other-Cross-Street when I saw a woman dancing.

Sunglasses on. Headphones in. Skinny jeans, an over sized t-shirt, and a hat. Check, check, and check. She was alone and waiting at the crosswalk. Her dance moves included, but were not limited to: toe-taps, hip swivels, snapping, shimmying, and some very tasteful leg swings.

It was like standing in the beer aisle and everything was on sale - I was staring and couldn’t make up my mind.

People walked past her and didn’t seem to notice. But there she was, keeping the beat and making it look easy. A shoulder dip here, a head tilt there. Then she paused for a moment, pulled her ipod from her pocket, and with new authority went right back to dancing. The increased intensity of her toe-tapping made it obvious her new song was even more up-tempo.

After several minutes I shook the dazed trance out of my eyes long enough to realize the stop light had gone through multiple rotations, but she still hadn’t crossed the street. What was she doing? And more importantly, why did I care so much?

I tried to guess what song she was listening to, then pondered, even worse - what if she isn’t listening to anything? What if she’s crazy? Then I was convinced I was being filmed by a hidden camera. This has to be for a TV show, right? I looked away and tried to play it casual. The woman was standing on the corner of a busy intersection, DANCING, and wasn’t in much of a hurry to do anything. There had to be an explanation!

But there wasn’t an explanation.

It occurred to me that it wasn’t my intrigue that had me captivated by the dancing lady, it was actually my jealousy. This woman was in her own little world and dancing to the beat of her own everything. She was movin’ and groovin’ and wasn’t going to cross the street until she darn-well pleased.

I wish I had the gumption to stand at an intersection and dance to my heart’s content. But alas, my dance moves typically require a fog machine, liquid courage, and most importantly, darkness.

Dance on! nobody's watching.

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