Confessions of a Table Dancer
A few nights ago, I received the following email:
When I read it, I panicked. After college, I’m sort of a grown-up, right? How is it time for me to graduate?
As much as I hate to get nostalgic, it’s hard to not at least reflect a little bit when I read these kinds of emails. So much of my life has changed in the last four years but there has been one constant…
For those of you who have not seen me dance, know this–what I lack in skill I more than make up for in enthusiasm and commitment. As I type this I can admit my technical shortcomings but when I’m dancing I forget that I’ve never taken a dance lesson in my life. I don’t know what to call my personal style but I do know it includes a lot of stomping, jumping, and running. I go for it.
I didn’t go out much my freshman year but I found places to dance (my dorm room). Here’s a picture of me busting out a sweet move from the Single Ladies video.
Sophomore and junior year I really took it to the next level. I spent Thursday through Saturday nights dancing around my friends’ living room. One day, we decided to literally take our dance moves to the next level. Suddenly we weren’t just dancing–we were table-dancing. It was half dancing, half furious attempt to break the wooden coffee table. We had some good dances on that table but, like all good things, table-dancing came to an end. Most of my friends blame the glass coffee table that took the place of the wooden one- I think it was more than that…then again I have been known to read into things…it probably didn’t help that my table-dancing counterparts, with a few exceptions, graduated last year. For whatever reason, table-dancing died out.
I miss that living room. I miss my friends. I miss table-dancing.
Last semester I tried to resurrect table dancing (too close to Easter for this?) but it didn’t catch on. My friends kept making excuses like “Amelia, the table is too rickety” or “Amelia, the ceiling fan might hit us” or “Amelia, no one else is dancing. It’s just you!” I wouldn’t give up! If no one would dance with me, I’d dance alone! For Halloween, I dressed up as Amelia Earhart and set out to attempt a solo table dance! What could possibly go wrong?!?!?!
Look how hopeful I look…
Just like Amelia Earhart (R.I.P.?)
I was busting a move on a rickety table in my friend Brendan’s basement when tragedy struck. It was just like Amelia Earhart…only maybe not quite as bad. I was knocked off of the table by a low-hanging ceiling fan. After the accident, a friend took me home and put me in my bed. I woke up the next morning with a black eye and a new, personal understanding of Amelia Earhart’s crash.
This accident, which I consider my personal Mid-Pacific crash, was a wake up call. I’m about to graduate from college. Maybe it’s time to call it quits…like Amelia Earhart did after her Mid-Pacific crash. I think that ceiling fan was trying to tell me “Grow up Amelia! Table dancing is over. That part of your life is over!” but, again, I have been known to read into things…
If that ceiling fan was trying to send me a message, I don’t want to hear it! I don’t want to live in a world without table-dancing! Maybe I’ll get hit in the face with a ceiling fan, but sometimes you have to take risks in life…just like Amelia Earhart! I promise wherever I am, if there is a table, I’ll be dancing on it.
So I hope your tables are sturdy ,New York City, because I’m coming for ya.