The Last Dance

The Last Dance

So to continue my segment in embarrassing moments, there may have been a few, and one that comes to mind was when I was still married to Patty and the two of us, her five siblings, and their mates at the time, all went to a bar down in San Diego. (I’m starting to think I drink a lot or at least did, but God blesses me with hangovers so that helps)

It was about ten o’clock when the emcee on stage announced there would be a dance contest, for men. The entire table looked at me and I was like “no fucking way” but a drink or two later I was back stage with the other five or six morons entering the contest. There was a hundred dollar award for first place but I was just hoping to not over embarrass myself.

I was last in line and watched these stiffs dance and my liquored up mine came up with an insane idea. I took the t-shirt I was wearing and pulled it up through the collar, I looked like I had just come from an all male conga line, but money was at stake, so I was to leave no stones unturned.

Each guy danced to whatever song was playing and as my turn was at hand I had no idea what I would get, of course in my state it really didn’t matter. Apparently the guy with the most applause won, so I was counting on the pity vote and pure stupidity to pull thus one off. This was in the mid eighties and I got the song ‘ Move your body’ by Marshall Jefferson.

I paraded onto the stage to cat calls and laughter, mostly from my table but throughout the crowded bar people had joined in, so when the music started I let loose. I was pretty fly for a white guy, lmao, and let the music guide my movement. I used the entire stage getting the crowd into a lather, mostly laughter but I could handle that.

When I finished they lined the six of us up and the emcee put his hand over the dancers head to implore noise, the loudest feedback won the money. The winner got a hundred dollar bill, but most of these guys, I learned later, did this quite often. As the emcee walked down the line putting his stubby hand over each dancers head, guys number two and four had pretty much dominated the applause.

I feared there would be a symphony of cat calls and laughter as the emcee finally got to me. As he raised his hand over my head the bar went nuts, standing ovation and all, was I that good or just that stupid, I hoped for the former but feared the latter. I won crushingly over the rest, was awarded the hundred dollar bill and red faced headed back to our table where I bought a round for us all.

Thinking that was fun, but glad it was over, the emcee approached our table. He handed me a list of songs and asked me what I wanted to dance to next week in the finals. The entire table hushed in anticipation, apparently, of what I was going to pick. My decision was easy and final, I’ll never be drunk enough to do this again, so good luck to the rest of your dancers.

He honestly was astonished, he told me five hundred dollars went to next weeks winner, like money could make me pull this foolish shit again. He left me with his business card and a begging face, but my dancing career was over. It’s always good to go out on top.

I never danced again on stage, though I was honored by the offer. Beer and I have had a lot of adventures together and I’m sure they’ll be more!

Peace and smiles to you all.

Crack Egg Out