Where the inside of my mind leaks onto the screen.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Shake It Like a Polaroid Picture

I talked for weeks to anyone who would listen about how excited I was that Kirk asked me to go with him to a formal dance at Granger.  It's the last year at the old school, and the class of '97 was kind enough to invite all alumni to come to a dance at their reunion.

According to Kirk, I am the first girl he's ever asked to a dance.  According to me, I'm not sure, "Hey, honey... Granger's doing this thing with a dance," interrupted by my quick, "Yes, I'd love to go.  Wait... when is it?" really counts as asking a girl to a dance. 

The preparations kind of reminded me of sitting in Bill's AP Stats class discussing dance preparations and being informed by one of my guy friends that "girls don't go to a dance with their date.  They go with their dress."  And I was definitely excited to get to dress up.  Thanks to a new friend (costumer for Beauty and the Beast and mom of one of my EYT kids) who was kind enough to fix the zipper on an old prom dress of my sister's, I was good to go. 

I added the silver shoes I bought for last year's Empress Theatre Gala (worn only to keep the dress from dragging on the ground - I was still too short for anyone to even see the shoes) and a new cute jacket from Maurices.  And my favorite accessory: my awesome husband in his newly repaired suit and blue tie to match my dress.

We didn't splurge for corsages or the pictures offered at the dance, opting instead to pay for a babysitter and to have Adam snap a few pics in the backyard just before departure.  And we headed off.

In retrospect, I'd say I placed too much emphasis on the dress and the chance to go on a fun date with Kirk and too little emphasis on "what's going to happen once you get there."  Somehow, I neglected to remember that I never liked school dances, always feeling particularly unskilled on the improvise-as-you-go dance floor.  And that was with friends.

My desire to hear the current Madrigals sing meant we were one of the first couples there - certain social suicide.  It also meant that while the few alumni couples stood awkwardly on the sidelines, this year's seniors enjoyed themselves without inhibition, rocking out to the horrid music selection.  (The reunion committee had opted to begin with sixties music, hoping to make the older crowd feel welcome.  The overall effect was devastatingly mood-killing.)

Oh, how I wanted to go be an idiot with the teenagers.  I truly do wonder if that urge will ever leave me?  But I didn't know these particular teenagers, so I resigned myself to trying to be an adult.  Bored and hot and put off by the lame music, Kirk and I decided to a lap around the building.  Thankfully, when we got back, Kirk's friend Liz and her husband had arrived.  And the music had improved.  And the gym had filled up.

So we danced.  Well, we tried to dance.  They stilled played a lot of music I didn't know (come on people... where was the 90's music?!) and it was far too noisy for any conversation.  My feet started to blister, so I took my shoes off, only to have Kirk pull his standard dance-with-Andrea-on-my-knees-because-she's-so-short bit, which made the nearby crowd chuckle. 

Once they started a tribute to the ages, we started to have a pretty great time.  My abs still hurt from doing the twist, and I also got to enjoy a few great line dances - always my favorite moments because they are choreographed!  I got Kirk to dance with me to "Zoot Suit Riot," and even taught him a few real steps. 

A member of the class of '97 who was pathetically less cool than he seemed to think he was acted as emcee for most of the event.  I rolled my eyes and threatened to go outside when he announced an acapella Lancers tribute via Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire."  I'm glad we stayed in, though, so I could enjoy lines like, "We didn't go to Hunter.  We went to Granger High; we're lucky we didn't die." 

We danced a bit more, talked to a few of Kirk's acquaintances and finally called it a night.  So the only question that remains is "was it worth it?" 

My husband asked me to go to a formal dance, and I got to wear a pretty dress.  So, duh.  Yes.