Freak Patrol

As a kid I took the obligatory dance lesson or two. Alright, I actually enjoyed going to ballet/tap class as a little kid and performing in recitals. Of course, I quit before I needed actual skills and talent to not look like a complete fool. But donning that little leotard and sparkly spankies was about the last time I didn’t feel utterly awkward dancing soberly. As I matured, so did my dancing style, until, inevitably it became fueled entirely by alcohol. Let’s take a look at its progression:

• In middle school, I was in complete shock when the cute, older 8th grade boy asked me, the awkward, dorky 6th grader to dance. Dancing at that time, for me, consisted of slowly shifting weight between left and right feet. And a chaperone still came over and told us to move at least 6 inches apart. Damn you, chaperone, you stunted by dance dreams.
  
• In high school, acquiring a date for homecoming or prom was much more of an anxiety-inducing task than the dance itself. My most memorable moment was during 10th grade homecoming. At dinner, I ate all my chicken fingers, as well as many of my dates’, like the classy lady I am. I guess they didn’t settle well and I remember rushing to the bathroom towards the end of the night. After projectile vomiting repeatedly, my mom had to pick me up from the “after-party” (aka watching TV at our friend’s house) and I couldn’t partake in the sleepover. Gah! I wasn’t even drinking!
• College = alcohol and was basically just a blur of drunken dance parties. Which have somehow extended into the adult world.

Which begs the question….where do we draw the line between the classy and the trashy? Sure, dancing at a bar, even as a postgraduate, is still generally considered socially acceptable. Go out with your friends, have a few drinks, jump around wildly when you hear Journey and get your groove on.

However, there is always that person that crosses the line. When, I ask, did it become appropriate to dance, squatting in your seat, at the table of a sports bar? (I don’t even mean dancing beyond wasted on TOP of the table, I might even give you a pass for that). And in what universe would anyone choose to dance, alone, up against a wall, or as one onlooker described it: f*ing the wall. Not only is this uncomfortable for the wall, it’s distressing to observe.

This is what we call inappropriate dancing. It goes beyond “grinding,” or “freak dancing,” if you will. It’s downright inappropriate. Which is why I propose we (when I say we, I mean all of society’s appropriate dancers) implement a dance contract as this school did.

According to the principal, “it got to the point where it was simulated sex on the dance floor, and we needed to make a stand on it.” Amen! It’s time to follow their lead and implement their policy: dance contracts.

Anyone attending a school dance is required to sign the contract to agree not to dance inappropriately. They wear wrist bands and are monitored by the Freak Patrol (I am not making this up, though I wish I had). After one freaky- deaky dancing incident, your band is snipped (that’s what she said). After the 2nd warning, you can dance your skanky butt on home. You are O-U-T.

So, how about it? Due to the actions of a few unfortunate souls, dance contracts may be necessary to attend adult social functions. Flash your ID, sign a contract and slap on that wrist band. If you follow my lead and “dance like a white girl” (as my friend so lovingly complimented me this weekend), your wrist band will always be intact. And we shall put an end to inappropriate dancing for good. Thankyouverymuch.

(Oh, and I love the one parent at the end of the video who adamantely disagrees with the whole concept. Totally an ex-stripper.)