This Mama DOES dance; though Bacon don't rock-n-roll.

Bacon and I have been child-free over the holiday weekend, which has been a blessing in many ways: 1) we were able to work, write, read, and think in silence; 2) we had 1/3 less mess to clean up; 3) we were able to carry on adult-sized conversations sans interruption; 4) we were able to complete other grown-up "tasks" (if you catch my drift, perverts).

Anyway, this post really isn't about Bacon and me. I'm really writing it to tell you all about the one major highlight of my weekend: Oldies Night at the Wayside. For those not in the know, the Wayside is a bar/dance club within stumbling distance of the CMU dorms. The Wayside itself has been in existence for at least 30-some years; Bacon's mom used to get drunk there as a freshman in the 1970's. Everyone parties at the Wayside in college, even if it's only one time. Before last night, I hadn't been to the Wayside in about 8 or 9 years.

I was happy to see that the place hadn't changed much... except for a few things. It's still horrible as ever; but, at present, the Wayside has been upgraded to a fancy/super-special level of horribility, which includes serving beer only in plastic cups. But the platinum stars of the present Wayside are the stripper poles and go-go cages in the middle of the dance floor, which gaucho-pant wearing sorority girls stick to like vomit on a fraternity-house toilet. It's a truly awesome and deeply disturbing sight to see.

I went to Oldies night with a diverse and totally fun group of new friends from Orientation: Ashley, Nate, Dan, Todd, and Josh. The best thing about this mix of people was that Ashley and I were outnumbered by four guys who actually liked to dance! We were out there for almost every song for two hours straight. I did have a bit of a bone to pick with the DJ, however. While he played true Oldies, like "Brown-Eyed Girl," and the GREASE soundtrack, he also tried to pass off "Like A Prayer" and "Heaven on Earth" as Oldies. Since when do songs from the late 80's early 90's count as freaking OLDIES?

I won't complain much more about the music. The rest of the songs he played totally rocked. There was the required butt-rock trifecta: AC/DC, Joan Jett, Def Leppard; the audience-participation number: "Mony, Mony"; and the songs that make people just dance their asses off, like "Footloose" and "Shout." He even played RUN-D.M.C. My only additions would've been The Violent Femmes, The Talking Heads, and maybe, maybe some ABBA to help free everyone's inner "Dancing Queen."

So, after all the cheap beer drinking and dancing and sweating was over, the group decided that they absolutely needed to eat some food. At this point, everyone is drunk but me-- that was how I'd planned it-- to drink two beers, dance it off, and lay off the alcohol for the rest of the night-- just in case anyone needed a ride home, etc. I can safely say it was my first time ever being the DD, and what an annoying experience that was!

We drove off into the humid 2:30 AM air, and everyone argued about which pizza place to call (FYI: there's no 24-hour pizza delivery in Mt Pleasant); and then there was the conversation from the back seat that went something like, "Hey? Who just grabbed my ass!? Hey! Take your hand away from my goods! You're definitely trespassing into pre-nut area, there..."

Our first destination was Ashley's house. I was supposed to drop everyone off there, and they were all going to sleep there. Then, Ashley decided it would be a bad idea to have four boys sleep over her house. In some step of rationalization I was too un-drunk to understand, she decided it would be preferable for everyone to sleep over at Todd's house instead. She packed an overnight bag, and then I ferried everyone to stop #2-- McDonald's. I parked and waited in the lot, because I didn't want to follow the yahoos into Mickey D's while they argued about chicken tenders or nuggets, Big Mac or Big Fish, etc. After about 25 minutes of waiting, everyone came back to the car with sacks of greasy goodness, and onward we went to stop #3, Todd and Josh's apartment.

There, I let everyone off. As I drove away, I sung to them out my car window, "Just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit..." And they all sang back. What a send off.

It's a good thing to be alive in this world, to meet new friends who like to dance (and who can keep up with my manic dancing). It's a good thing to be alive in this world, to sing out loud and have a whole group sing back to you-- and not just any lyrics-- but the right ones, the exact ones, that follow joyfully, naturally, seamlessly after.