PS10j - Sights and... er, Sensations Video Dance

The night of Thursday, September 5th, 2002 contained the most memorable night of my Frosh Week. At the same time it was the night of a video dance and the first pub night of the year. I decided to check out what was going on at the pub first, since I hadn't been in there on a crowded night before.

First, I had to wait in line, and I thankfully didn't take the advice of a few drunk people who told me I should use my Frosh Leader status to skip past everyone. Of course, those same people also told me I should pull up my pants higher because the women want to see "the package." Anyway, the experience reminded me of a Coors Light commercial that goes something like, "We'll be there... when the bouncer says 'You, you... and you forty can wait another twenty minutes.'" The worst part was that I was just going in to see if an acquaintance of mine had decided to drop in. I wasn't even drinking that night because I had to drive myself back home, and I had really came down to check out the video dance.

But I did get in eventually (after I turned to the group of foxy girls behind me and said, "Sorry I'm holding you guys up - I know this pub doesn't need another nerd, but they have to let me in before you."), and I was glad I came in because I saw a lot of people from my old high school. Most of them were acquaintances of the sort where they would recognize me, but I would not pick them out until they started talking to me. It was fun to have all these people remember that I still exist and ask what I was up to. After about twenty minutes, I moved on to the video dance.

The video dance itself is similar to a typical high school video dance except that here there is an abundance of alcohol. Strangely, there seem to be less "incidents," or perhaps the security people are just quieter and more efficient. Plus nobody would ever say, "So-and-so got kicked out," and have it a major conversation topic among that social circle for the next week and a half. I love university.

It was really jamming inside. (Is that still cool to say? What's the word to use now?) And now we're going to get to the PG-13 section of this mini-essay, which I would advise my relatives not to read, or if they do, that they please refrain from commenting on it.

The dancing style these days doesn't seem to be as restrained as in years past. Actually, it makes the scene at J.J. Rossy's (rest in peace) look like a ballroom dancing class. Think, 'sex set to music, but with clothes.'

At one point, I was swarmed by two absurdly hot frosh girls. Before I knew it, I was dancing! Me! With girls! With two!

The blonde in the white shirt took particular notice of me. Before I knew it, she was grooving against my crotch. It felt very nice, though a little more than what I was expecting. The only problem came when I had a certain 'status change,' so picture me tying to keep a rhythm going to the music with her while also trying to keep her from rubbing her ass against and noticing said 'status change.' I mean, you have to be modest.

This desire to be polite probably made me a pretty lousy dancer. Afterwards, I told her I could actually dance better than that, it's just that I was nervous. So we 'danced' again. I was a little better, but I don't think she appreciated the respectful crotch-ass distance I was trying to maintain.

I soon found myself wanting to ask for her phone number or something (or at least that would be as much of an outward manifestation of my feelings as I would allow), but then I remembered that I was a Frosh Leader. Besides, if she still liked me next week when I wasn't a Frosh Leader anymore (and thus eligible to date frosh again - not like I ever get to date anyone, much less frosh, but it's nice to be eligible) she'd probably say something then. So in the end it was just as well that I wasn't a very good dancer.

Later I was sitting on a table in the hall near the ticket gate, talking to a security person. We both agreed that the scene on the dance floor was ridiculously stimulating, that we can function perfectly well sober as long as everybody else is drunk, and that it's a little regretable to have to be on duty all the time.

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