Friday Dance

There was a dance after lunch complete with music by Owl City, Lady Gaga and The Black-Eyed Peas.

There was a handsome DJ wearing a bright blue polo.

There were lots of cute and awkward girls and cute and awkward boys.

Nobody danced.

Instead they stood and smoothed their hair, took pictures with their cell phones, and occasionally screamed (an adolescent mating call?).

I was positioned as a bouncer. Like a troll. Nobody goes through these doors.

One kid started to dance. He lifted his shirt and wagged his butt. He moved his legs like jammed scissors. He sprung on and off the floor with his hands. A circle formed around him; other kids took turns to dance.

Some kids know to move when music plays.

A lady with a badge and keys around her neck, a walkie at her hip, told them to break the circle.

But the kid kept dancing and his friends kept dancing. They did cool moves. Their pants fell down.

Everyone sang along to the words, Tonight's Going to be a Good Night.

A disco ball made rainbow swirls on the brick wall.

Scissor kid kept dancing.