Old People Dancing :/

The moment I hear that we are going downtown, a pulse starts to rush through me. “Oh-my-God!” I think. “This is better than Christmas!” Every year when I am in Florida with my grandparents, I always look forward to this life-altering event: going downtown to the square to watch old people dance.
Of all the exciting things in my life, this has to be THE best. As we get in the Lincoln, I start to get excited. I listen to my iPod, with the anticipation coursing through my body. I’m so giddy with excitement I can hardly contain myself- it’s like a 3-year-old having to use the bathroom. The fifteen minute drive seems to take years.
When we finally get downtown and find a parking spot, I know I am about there. From the parking lot, I get the first glimpse into my ever-so-close, amazing future: I can hear a polka! From here, I can just imagine the 80-year-olds dancing. We walk into town, and I am uber-excited. The thrill is definitely overwhelming to me. As we walk through the crowd, I try to find a seat close to all the action.
A new song begins as we find seats, close to the stage. Lady in Red. NOW THE EXCITEMENT BEGINS!! I sit in my plastic green chair- the same chairs year-after-year- and I think to myself what a wonderful world. Seriously. This is bliss.
Now, I am sure you would never think of doing a line dance to Lady in Red, but these old farts know their shit, and believe me, they line dance to this song. This is where the fun begins. Another song starts, this time Man! I Feel Like a Woman! Okay, this song is more of a line dance, so I begin to pay close attention to the singing, since I need to know what I’m getting myself into.
Each night there is a DJ downtown. Some of them are absolutely fantastic, while others couldn’t sing any better than that Asian dude who sang She Bangs on American Idol. These people were terrible, which made it so much more fun! “Oh, yeah,” I say to myself, “this will be great!” So I sit and listen to the terrible singing- great she just hit a high note!- and begin to imagine a cow dying. Then, the old people dance their way into my imagination. So here we have some lady who can’t sing to save her life (hence, the dying reference) and old people dancing around her. I’m sorry, but this is hilarious.
An old guy dances right past me. I just sit there and watch. He’s definitely a pimp, going after all the old ladies. I feel like I’m at a club. He must be single. Oh wait, now he’s going over to a younger blonde lady who looks like Barbie. Ha! We have a regular Hugh Hefner over here folks! He kisses her, and yeah, eww… Old people making out… :/ Enough said…
So I sit there laughing at what I am watching. I have three glorious hours of this amazingness. I decide to get a drink- it’s happy hour after all, and alcohol only brightens the experience. As I make my way to the concession stand, I notice Hugh and Barbie. “Wow, they should really get a room,” I think.
I go back to my seat after I have my drink in hand, and begin to get back into observer mode. The song has changed again, this time to something more modern- the Cupid Shuffle. I practically pee myself this is so funny. I can’t believe that 70 and 80 year olds are dancing to this- and what makes it so much better is that they know it! This is just great; it’s turning out to be a spectacular evening!
Throughout the course of the evening, I observe many more wonderful old folks, some who even have their grandchildren with them. There are many people my parent’s age as well, who must be visiting relatives. They all get in on the action. Now, nothing bothers me more than people who don’t know what they’re doing. Granted the old people may not really know what they’re doing, but the younger folks should just stop. Trying to imitate the old people is NOT cool in my book. They just look retarded.
So to make sure my evening ends on a good note, I continue to observe my older friends. Sometimes, the people sitting next to me try and make small talk. I reply, but this is too much for me to handle, being that it just so happens to be Hugh Hefner and Barbie (they are engaged, so apparently she’s a gold digger).
They tell me the story of how they fell in love and how I will meet a nice girl someday, and I just laugh. “Dude,” I say to him. “I’m not getting any older than thirty.” He just laughs. He again gets up and decides to dance with Barbie.
The evening begins to draw to a close, and we get up to leave. I walk back to the car carrying memories of old people dancing, some not-so-lovely music, and Hugh Hefner guy and his Barbie doll, who have apparently found their happiness. I get in the car, put my iPod on, and we drive back home, and I get ready for bed.
I lie there, reflecting again on my wonderful evening. Most people may be bored out of their minds if they were to go downtown with me, but I know that this is not my case. As I fall to sleep, I have, not visions of sugarplum fairies dancing in my head, but visions of Hugh Hefner, his blonde Barbie, polkas and bad karaoke. Ah, bliss…