It started harmlessly enough. I was trudging in to Target when suddenly I heard the thump-thump beat of some pounding rap music. Approaching slowly, was a well-used, Chevy with two teenage girls in front. (It’s a good thing they had the windows rolled down or they might have gone deaf). By the time we were eye to eye, even the pavement under my feet began to rumble. So, I did what any other middle-aged woman would do: I started to dance.
Now back in the day, I actually had some moves. Unfortunately, some of the parts on me that used to gyrate now merely grate. This did not impede my enthusiasm in front of these grinning, gum-smacking, girls, however. And they did what anyone else would do when confronted by such a spectacle: they stopped their car and began to whoop and holler, “YOU GO GIRL!”
So I did. Now this is not the first time I have behaved in such a manner. But it has been a long time since the last time. At least three months, when I was having my teeth cleaned and suddenly Michael Jackson’s, “Beat It,” came on the surround sound. Despite the fact I was flat on my back and the hygienist had both her hands in my mouth, I managed to move everything that wasn’t tied down.
Now ever since my kids were born I have tried very hard to keep this clearly genetic reaction to drums on the QT. At school functions, I always sit in the back row just in case they play danceable music. My teens do not understand my impulse to move when Phil Collins kicks it, “In The Air Tonight.” I do not understand how they can possibly sit still when Santana’s, “Smooth” is grooving.
This morning in church, when my right foot started tapping out the beat, my youngest calmly placed her hand on my knee. Good thing she didn’t see me at Target. I worked it all the way through the crosswalk. With those girls and now several onlookers egging me on, I even did a few turns and began to moonwalk backwards into what I thought were the ENTRANCE doors.
This is probably a good place to stop. Just sayin’ that the next time you see someone dragging their heels a bit–encourage them. You might just end up with a parking lot full of strangers doubled over in laughter.