tequila shots and line dancing

I will not line dance *ever* again after doing tequila shots.

I guess I just need to concentrate on the steps, and I found that tequila most certainly inhibits my ability to, um...concentrate.

My senior year college roomie and I got together for one night of fun in Vegas. We worked hard that year we lived together, back in 1993 and when all was said and done, we balanced the hard work by playing hard, too. Secrets we share are those only she and I will ever know. It was a refreshing reunion.

A workmate of hers met us at a locals-only bar in Vegas. Yeppers--I was charged more for entrance just because I produced an out-of-state ID. Should've brought my military dependent's ID. Oh, well. Her workmate would not even hear of me paying, not only to get in but also for drinks. And for shots.

And so it went.

Haven't done that since I was 20-something.

Nothing out of control, mind you. I have never been one much interested in drinking myself into oblivion (that is my control-freak nature), but a buzz is nice. So I get out there for the line dancing lessons, in the back row--yeah, I forgot that the back row turns into the FRONT ROW always at some point.

Duh.

Left, right, turn, stomp, shuffle...the steps were simple enough but it required concentration and memorization--plus some degree of familiarity with the general steps would have been nice. I am a salsa dancer, not a line dancer. So I held my head high, did what I could and moved my hips well.

Well enough to get some attention.

One man came over to our table, after Mr. Shot Buyer had left for the night (we weren't out too late!) and asked me out on the floor. At least I could somewhat follow, and he had me spinning and prancing all over the entire floor. Enough so that neighboring tables clapped when I sat down and another came over and commented that it was the first time he had ever seen anyone in flip-flops dance like that...and NOT lose her shoes.

I blushed...I think.

He took my roomie out, as she protested and said, "Yeah, well, don't expect me to do THAT" and then came back and spun me around the floor a few more times.

He liked my glasses. He wore glasses, too. A sign of wisdom, perhaps? Or just bad eyesight? I suggested wisdom as a function of age. I don't think he liked that suggestion. (I have been out of the game waaaaaay toooooooo long.)

There are few more things I truly enjoy doing than dancing. I really love to go out and dance, no matter what the music playing. It was fun and then, alas, it was time to go home.

Just nice to know I've still got some moves.