Last night we scooted over to Bedhead Betty to shake the week out on the dance floor. They have one cute drummer girl throwing beats to an eclectic mix of covers ranging from county to Police to 60s classics. They pulled out a good mix of thirty something-plus-plus-plus-something listeners and dancers, too, which makes for great people watching.
You’ve gotta love being a grown-up, because peer pressure falls away on the dance floor and a finer individuation shines. True, that diversity may look more like a hot mess than a celebration of freedom–it turns out that peer pressure was aesthetically pleasing even though it was incredibly painful and soul-destroying. So you’ve gotta love middle-aged “I don’t give a damn about what people think of my moves.” You might as well love it, because that’s what we’ve got.
For example, a cover of “(Take Another Little) Piece of My Heart” had MS and me and some others rocking, grinding and stomping, but others were middle-school style slow dancing, some couples were jitterbugging, one couple was frantically bootie grinding so hard I thought we’d need to call for a mop and bucket soon, and others were doing some sort of Barneyesque slow-swaying thing–one person with jazz hands. A video without sound would have made viewers think it was some sort of experimental ipod dance where everyone brought their own music.
Janis may have been spinning without her Porsche in her now-sober grave, but what the hell. She didn’t make it past 27. Who knows, if she had lived she too might have been holding hands and double-stepping the Pony and the Hot Potato in capri pants. … No. Hell no. What am I saying? I am going to maintain that Janis would never wear capri pants, and even though I wish no one else would, I am working to accept the things in others I can not control. See how grown-up I’m becoming? If that’s the drummer you hear, babies, polka on! Polka On!