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It feels like it’s been forever, but I finally had time to write something. Between traveling for work and attempting to get my backyard ready for outdoor fun, there has been a lot less time to write.
After returning from a much needed vacation, there’s a few things I need to address. Being on vacation at a beach at my income level means there will be other families in my vicinity. We had a Mennonite family next door, complete with full dresses and many children. It was hotter (and equally muggy) than Satan’s sack, so I am not sure how they managed that. But this isn’t about a random family. I wanted to point them out because why does a society that makes their women wear a full dress go to the fucking beach?
Anyway, after spending most of the vacation day drinking and falling asleep before 11:00 p.m. due to the heat and copious booze, me and my group of friends (11 of us) decided to take a trip out to dinner followed by some live music. It was a beach cover band that played all the golden hits of yesteryear.
“Great,” I thought. It’d be nice to get out of the house and change it up. I love the beach and the drunken routine, but this would be a fun change of atmosphere. What I didn’t expect was how outrageous this event would be.
We decided that before dinner we would purchase tickets just in case this soiree sold out. We made our way over after dinner and a quick pit stop a nearby pier to see what was caught that day. From there, we could hear the party turning up. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but what I didn’t expect was a full-on geriatric dance party.
Let me preface this that under normal circumstances, this would have been my wheelhouse as I am a terrible influence on older people. That’s usually on my own terms, but in this case I was playing an away game. There were no shortages of Hawaiian shirts, sunglasses at night, Bermuda shorts and booze. They knew every word to every song and drunkenly belted them out.
Quite honestly, I felt like Steve Irwin observing the wild Baby Boomer in its natural habitat. I was a guest, and it was not my place to interrupt their ritual dancing. My group of friends were easily the youngest, and I would venture to say that every other person had children that were older than us.
There were hundreds of them and I have no idea how they found out about this event. I saw a grandmother booty dropping to Chicago, which until then, I thought was impossible. I saw grown men displaying PDA and heavy petting just like a junior high prom. Arthritis medication must have come a long way or the beer made them not care that they will likely be in some serious pain in the morning. I saw men and women grinding and gyrating that made me genuinely embarrassed for them as well as concerned for a broken hip or thrown out back. As a side note, I hate the band Chicago and especially, “25 or 6 to 4.”
These people danced like no one was watching. They Celebrated the good times. Many of them were too old to realize that the various line dances, like the Cupid Shuffle or the Wobble, had actual moves as they stumbled around and waved their hands. I felt like we had crashed a wedding reception. Everyone was happy, probably because most of them were retired or knew that their generation will retire. My guess is they were mostly empty nesters or swingers. A couple from my group even engaged with them, trading dance partners as the older man (who we learned was on a first date with the lady) cut a rug as our guy awkwardly did a Peanuts inspired dance while talking to the older lady.
The party was over almost as soon as it began. Nearly three hours had passed and their Viagra had likely kicked in. Like many events in my life, it ended with a “what the fuck did I just witness?,” but then again, what’s life without a few head scratchers?.
Image via nsafonov / Shutterstock.com