It wasn’t a night to remember, but it was a fun night out!
Three real blondes and one brunette with a combined age of 201 years added more sparkle and energy to our dead Haney pub/club on a Friday night than all of the mid twenties combined!
Ladies, we rock!
Originally we started out as a cinquet, but ended up as a quartet. We lost Blondie No.1 as fast as we uttered “Let’s go dancing”. She couldn’t bear the thought of having any more fun without her husband and called it a day. (“Blondes have more fun”?) The four of us didn’t express ‘guilt’ at the thought of leaving our husbands behind. For tonight they were our ‘man-sitters’ and that meant: NO babysitting charges!
Our handsome quartet left for the closest dance floor in town, The Haney: A pub at day time, a club on Friday and Saturday night.
It’s 10.10pm: The club/pub is still empty, the dance floor hasn’t even been cleared of chairs and tables yet – but the music is good. Top 40 music with NO artificial techno beats. Are we that early? Where is everybody? Right, next door at the “Caddy Shack”! They are holding their “”Rookie of the year Award”!
There is nothing better than a strip – show to lure the paying public from the public house! We are tempted to wander inside but reconsider after we read the cover charge (five bucks!). We all have the same thought: Let’s rather buy a drink for that money than get intimidated by skinny bodies covered in lacy lingerie! This is fine with me, I’ve seen it already. (Check out “Guts & Glory”).
Back inside the pub/club we take matters in our own hands and rock the place! No turtleneck and hiking boots could stop me from joining my enthusiastic, dancing mother friends:
Jaqui goes with the flow and rocks it any way she likes.
(The “litter box”: Drop down on all fours, keep arms extended, toes on the floor. Alternately wiggle and kick one leg into the air. Pretend you are a cat in her litter box).
And for me? All moves are inspired by my former life as aerobics instructor and my German heritance (marching combined with step-touches).
After 20 minutes of enthusiastic exercise we are still the only ones dancing! It gets busier, but still, the youth is hanging, checking their i-phones instead of moving their legs. We are not the youngest anymore, we don’t have last names sounding like Travolta, Timberlake, Jackson or Usher, but we definitely have their attitude:
We can move like Jagger! I call these creative, innovative dance moves.. Or as Grace Jones said we are “Slave to the Rhythm”. Let me compare this to the young crowd who finally follows our lead. Uniformed in too tight dresses and high heels, they move like one. Nothing fancy here, all rocking to the same, dull beat of the same techno background. I couldn’t help but feeling sorry for them. They never experienced the innocent disco scene. The great sound of pure, honest music. We danced to the originals. Not to artificially enhanced, computerized, pre-fabricated sounds.
We only know what we know and what we remember. I wonder what these young women and men will remember. Probably only the text messages they received while standing in the middle of the dance floor, moving as one.
I said it once; I have to say it twice: Ladies, we rock! And don’t let any twenty –something tell you otherwise! They might be extra-ordinary in their own way, but we are extra-ordinary on the dance floor! They don’t even know how to do the ‘litter box”, we do!