Dance Like No One's Watching

I recently listened to this song and was inspired to participate in the third entry of James & Oneg's Summer Writing Challenge Extravaganza.

Awkward Elevator Challenge: write about a time you did something embarrassing (or make it up), and the person that saw it happen, suddenly gets in an elevator with you shortly after. There is no word count limit.

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There is something about empty hotel hallways. Maybe it is the feeling of being on vacation, a time when you can take a break from your reality. Or perhaps, it's the illusion of privacy that causes people to jump outside of their comfort zone for a moment.

Whatever the case may be, it can be kind of freeing when you break loose for a moment.

I had just finished an intense workout in the hotel's gym and I was on a high, bursting with energy and a confidence I hadn't felt for a while.

With The Boom from the Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies soundtrack blaring in my ears and an empty hallway stretched out before me, I lost myself in an impromptu fantasy dance sequence.

When I was a kid, I danced to everything. Songs playing over speakers at parties and groceries stores, the silly jingles I sang out loud to my family, the soundtrack that constantly played in my head. All because it made me feel good.

It felt rather glorious letting my inner child free for a moment. The huge burst of complete and utter joy coursed through my veins, choreographing the dance second by second, expect for the very end, thanks to watching the music video and Tik Tok videos demonstrating the steps.

The last thing I felt was embarrassment.

Until I finished, paused my music, and heard a round of slow clapping.

I wish I knew the moment when my very public and sometimes ill-timed dancing shifted from bringing me happiness to dousing me in embarrassment. All I know is I got older. And somewhere along the way, between growing up and a lot of crap thrown my way, I lost a great deal of my confidence and joy in life, not just my spontaneous dancing. Slowly, I've been gaining it back; I'm not the wallflower who only comes out to the dance floor when there is a crowd and the Cupid Shuffle is on anymore. I groove in public, when I know no one is around. Then, like a paranoid bunny, I freeze when I sense that anyone is near.

So I froze. I thought, "maybe if I don't turn around, it'll all be okay. I can pretend that there isn't someone behind me. I can just walk away. They never have to see my face." There was one little problem with that plan.

My room was on the top floor, meaning I needed to use the elevators or stairs to gain access. I refused to use the stairs; my body had enough exercise between the two back-to-back workouts. Although, the stairs were really looking like a good idea.

And the elevators? They were behind me; in the midst of my one woman performance, I had passed the elevators. My one-way ticket to safety was blocked by the very thing I wanted to run from.

There was only one option. Turn around and face the music. (And yes, the beginning lyrics of Total Eclipse of the Heart started playing in my head.)

Should be easy enough right? It was probably an older woman trying to be polite.

If I was ever so fortunate.

Instead of a sweet old grandma, there was a Rider Strong look-alike, except taller and closer to my age. We'll call him Andrew. Seriously, it couldn't have been an older woman. My embarrassment grew, warming my ears.

You don't know me, so the phrase "warming my ears" sounds funny. Isn't it usually your face that starts to feel hot when you are embarrassed? Not for me. Bright red blush doesn't start on the apples of my checks and spread with every passing moment. People figure out that I'm uncomfortable because of my increased fidgeting and my eyes looking everywhere but at the cause of my situation. When I am at the climax of my embarrassment, my ears feel red hot.

Back to my tale.

I walked over to the elevator's button, passing Andrew, hoping the silence and my nervous energy was enough to clue him in on my desire to not talk about my impromptu performance. I pressed the button, hoping it would come quickly.

"I didn't realize I would be entertained while I waited for the elevator."

Guess the silence wasn't loud enough.

I pressed the button again; why won't it hurry up? "Obviously, I thought I was alone."

"Obviously."

A few seconds passed. I'm sure I could insert some cliché of how it felt like minutes; we all know embarrassment likes to seemingly stretch time. The doors opened and I sped toward freedom, pushing the button marked '3'. Safe at last.

Except I finally looked up, brave enough to see Andrew's face as the doors started to close. To anyone else, it would have been a charming smile gracing his face. To me, it was like a cat playing with a mouse, grinning at the mouse as it reaches for the last piece of hope. Andrew stepped toward me reaching his hand out, preventing me from escaping.

Sounds a bit dramatic doesn't it? Like something from a horror film, the evil monster has finally cornered the titular hero or heroine, leaving them no where to go. It gets closer and closer, causing the viewer's heart to race with fear and anticipation.

Mortification has quite the way of twisting a person's consciousness.

Andrew joined me inside the elevator, noticing the light illuminating the '3'. "Perfect, I'm on the third floor too."

Are you freaking kidding me? "Great."

The doors closed, trapping me with my monster. He angled his body toward me, intent on adding to my misery. "So do I get to know the pretty dancer's name?"

Great, he's flirting with me. I guffawed before announcing a firm "definitely not happening."

"Shame." The doors opened again, allowing us to step out to the third floor. We turned the corner reaching the hallway. Please let him be on the opposite end of the floor. Finally, things worked in my favor as Andrew went left, leaving me to walk to the right alone.

"Hey dancer." I paused, giving enough indication that I had heard Andrew.

"If I could dance like that, I wouldn't hide it. Just saying." He didn't give me a chance to turn around before I heard what I assume was his hotel door closing. Not wanting to wait around to see if he would stick his head back out, I rushed to my room, hoping I would never see Andrew again.

There isn't much more to this story. I did end up seeing Andrew one more time and much of the conversation was chock-full of one-sided flirtation. (All him. I provided the rejection laced with sarcasm.) That is not the point of this story.

This is the point. Sometimes, we can lose parts of ourselves, parts that give us joy, despite what those around us think. Those parts don't have to stay lost; you have to fight to get them back. So fight, even if there is a chance of embarrassment.

A little bit of embarrassment is worth it in order to get you back.