Okay, so first off, this blog was originally a place for me to be all 'holier then thou' and try and change the world. If you want proof, read my other entries dated years ago. That didn't work so well (if the long date was any indication)
The new plan is to maybe just make people's lives better through humor. I think I can manage that. Sure I won't win any noble peace prizes, but then what would I do with them all? Cause you know, if I started winning them, I'd win all of them...
That was joke. Work with me.
Anyway, so today I went to the High School Prom. Rather, tonight. Also, it wasn't really my prom. It was the teenagers prom. I'm like 23. I was invited, and not having any untold millions with which to swim in for a good alternative, I decided to go.
It started off much like my last prom. I was sober as I so frequently am. (I never drink. REMEMBER THAT!) I was also serious. And more importantly, not really expecting to enjoy myself. I don't what it was back then, or now for that matter, but prom is never quite how I imagine it.
Flash back... five years. I was in the graduating class. Prom was coming up. I had a huge crush on a girl from out of town, so much so that I invited her to Prom, and then drove with a friend to GP to pick her up. We had a pretty good time. But I was expecting... I dunno... something romantic? Instead I get a non stop stream of filthy music and dirty music videos. Only a few good songs punctuated the prom. Still I managed to have a good time.
Not good enough for me and her though. As five years later (aka now) she is married and has two kids.
Now this time around, I'm not going to woo anyone, as I'm the one who's been invited, not doing the inviting. I am going not for myself, but to ensure that my date has a good time.
As I walk into a crowded hall full of energetic teenagers, I feel incredibly old. Like a fossil in a play ground. Yet despite my discomfort, none of them seem to notice. With the exception of a few joyful greetings to friends I know, I more or less blend in. Much to my relief.
I didn't know this right away though. The doors opened at 5:30, but the party didn't get started till 7:00. So I had a hour and a half to sit around and stew in my juices. I tried to make small talk, but my mind kept wandering to how out of place I was. I was sober, and nervous. Utterly afraid I would end the night in some brawl. Which of course I would win. Come all, I'll take all challengers!
No brawl though. I'll be honest, I think that's a good thing. I'd hate to sully my 'no fights' record now.
Now the party is getting started. The music is a combination of country, rap, and filthy rap. Oh wait... all the rap was filthy that night. Also, a little dance music, and filthy dance music. All of course liberally sprinkled with lewd music videos proudly displayed on two massive projector screens.
Obviously one could not sit these out. But I didn't want to seem like I was eager to dance to such... well... rubbish. So I hemmed and hawwed and generally stalled. Then Daft Punk came on. How could I miss that? Up I went like a shot. Then I did my white guy dance. Aka; dancing with no skill.
As I shuffled and bobbed crudely to the music, I realized, once more, how uncomfortable I was among all these surprisingly talented teenage dancers.
Little know fact about me, if in a large group, al la prom; the closer it gets to midnight, the more like a drunk I will seem.
Skip forward a bit, it's about 9 now. I am now, spontaneously, and unexpectedly, a dancer. My skills were furious, my moves were curious, my rhymes were injurious. Okay, so there were no rhymes. I wasn't a rapper, just a dancer.
Of on a ego trip here. I was seriously good! Like wow, I rocked. There was dance off, and I stood too the side and did nothing at all. Other then that though, I just let the beat flow through, and when my date, for a brief moment of two songs, actually started to mimic my dance moves; it was dancvana. (That's dance and Nirvana combined for those of you who need it spelled out.) I had not a care in the world, and my moves were slick. I was no Micheal Jackson, but if you had cut back five years, past me would have been staring in envy at present me. If you get my drift.
BACK ON TRACK! Anyway, so I had spontaneously become a good dancer. Even when we took five and sat back at our table, at least one part of my dancer anatomy would be keeping time with the music, be it my leg, my hand, or my head. I was in the zone. I was in control. The world was my oyster, and I was on a sea food binge.
Cut forward another hour. The drunkenness is now in full force. Two hours ago, I had asked my date how long she planned to stay, she had said till the end, in my mind I had shuddered. Now it was 10, and the prom was only scheduled till 11. I was genuinely not looking forward to having to quit.
I would stand with my date, and just dance. Sometimes no one would be around us. If past me had been there, he would have made a trip to the snack table while wishing he didn't know me. Past me was a bit of a coward.
At this point, I decided to really let loose. My tie came off, and found it's way onto my head. I had planned to whip my head around and make like a propeller, but visions of my tie flying off and landing on some teenage girl kept that from happening. Still, it was on my head. My collar was up, and my top button was undone.
By now, I could tell I was fully in my 'He looks drunk' stage. I was loving it too. I danced through four songs in a row. Non stop. I was on a roll. Then I found out that we were leaving at 10:30. I felt a twinge of regret. I downed half a can of sprite in one go, and then left the hall giggling.
What a night!
So remember, if you have Arlin to a party, he will get increasingly weird the later it gets. You have been warned. However, there most be a sizable group for this effect to take place. Among a small group, Arlin will remain completely sober. Frankly, I'm begining to wonder if I feed off other peoples party joy like alcohol.