Sunday, November 26, 2006

The meaning of life explained on the dance floor

"Rah, rah Rasputin, lover of the Russian queen..." the Boney M classic dance hit blares out of the speakers. Within moments the dance floor is full of people dancing away. The men are dressed in various shades of gray and black suits, a flash of colour emanating from their garish striped ties. The plump ladies are clad in all sorts of fashion; a red sequined bodice with flowy chiffon skirts to the floor, clunky white heels poking out at the bottom, a tight fitting jacket and short skirt holding a 60 yr old body in place, a negligee like jacket revealing a burgundy low cut dress, hefty women teeter on 4"heels as the crowd boogies to the music. The disco ball sends light all over the room, quick flashes off the sequins of dresses catch in my eyes as I swirl around the dance floor with complete strangers.
Happiness radiates from everyone’s eyes. A 70th birthday celebration. I don’t know anyone here except a colleague who invited me. I’ve done the Lambada and lezinka, and gypsyed with the myriad of hefty Kazakh women done up like Christmas trees here at the party.
How did I get here? Once again I’m dancing with a bunch of middle aged women; they’re writhing and wiggling their chubby little bodies at me, I shimmy my shoulders in response. A sense of "woe is me"comes over me suddenly. All alone on the dance floor with the "tyotki" once again. Where is my man to dance with? Where’s my partner for life? The knight in shining armor? The happy ending? It ain’t gonna happen is it? This is the end of the fairy tale for me.
For one of the "Rasputin"choruses I lament my lonely state but before I sink lower into this feeling I look around and realize I’m not alone. I’m surrounded by happy people and having a ball. A smile comes across my face as the song kicks into high gear. A little lady in a black sweater dress with a sequin star burst shooting out from her left breast dances over to me. Her hair is piled high on her head and gently wiggles back and forth as she shakes her body. Her eyes are wild with excitement as we begin to dance with each other. Her red lips spread into a smile, revealing a bright row of gold teeth. I smile back at her as we move to the beat. The lament passes. Knight or no knight, I’m happy. Until he shows up, I’ll dance with the "tyotki".


Anonymous said...

knights come when you least expect it.

Margaret Bary said...

Hi Tom -
I've only just started to read your blog - love the wintery photos. Thanksgiving was the usual back here in Brooklyn - a rainy parade followed by a few beautiful days off from school. We ate the usual turkey fare along with Indian chick pea curry, courtesy of our extended family of cousins. Looking forward to reading more of your adventures. Have you met Borat yet?

Anonymous said...

Hi Tomichka,

Finally current with your blog again. Sorry you won't be home for Xmas, I'll miss New Years at your moms again. But we'll see each other soon enough. Sounds like you're having quite an adventure though.

Much love,


Tom T said...

OK Anonymous, I'll stop expecting him. Hope his armour doesn't rust along the way ;).

Anna said...

Better to dance with the tyotki than to spend the evening hiding from Prince Ghastly (of any orientation) :-) -- more fun and less stressful. And struts your stuff for any as-yet-unidentified Charmings.

Tom T said...

To Anna,
You're so right baby! See you on the dance floor!!