This past Saturday was my work’s much-anticipated Christmas Party. My wife and I both took the opportunity to spend an evening out together sans kids. As an individual of the feminine category, she also took the opportunity to get her nails and hair ‘did’ and acquired new digs for the occasion. Suffice to say, she looked stunning and made me proud to have her by my side that night. I also didn’t look too bad myself. My clothes are usually chosen (by wifey), based on their compatibility to her outfit. My job is to put them on and show up, to which I never complain.
Our night, or I should say her night was dampened when the party organizer approached us almost as soon as we got there and asked for our participation in the game ‘Dances with the stars.’ For the reality shows buffs out there, you know what this is all about. If you don’t, it is exactly what it sounds like except without the stars. There are five couples, (us being one of them), each couple takes center stage and starts dancing to a random song picked by the dj. In our case, instead of judges, the winner is picked based on crowd response.
My poor wife was dismayed. She made constant trips to the bathroom and even tried to consuming some ‘brave brew’. I am not sure how effective either of them were. She spent the next few hours living through the suspense and even tried to trade
spouse dancing partner so she could escape the perceived upcoming debacle.
When the time came for us to take the floor, we were couple number 4. We watched as the first couple, (the company’s President and his wife) waltz around. “I could do that.” Said my nervous wife. Then couple number 3 was up. Their song was the fun party hit song “Jump On It.” and jumped on it they did. In fact they jumped all over it. They added their own moves as they went along, including The Sprinkler, some kinda cowboy move, a sort of move where you hook an imaginary fish and I thought I saw the Funky Chicken. They looked like they were having fun out there and the crowd, including myself, had fun watching them. My wife was now thinking that this wasn’t as bad as she first thought. “I could do that one too.” she enthused.
“Couple number 4, take the dance floor please!” (My wife will probably hear that line for the rest of her life). We took the floor and waited with breath-abated anticipation for the song choice…’Ice Ice Baby! Ice Ice Baby…’ My wife’s visibly cringed at the first note. I saw her thinking, ‘Are you kidding me?? I can’t dance to this. I have never danced to this song and plus I am wearing high heels.” I was not to be denied. I did the robot, I popped, break danced and did a passable version of the running man, oblivious to the crowd. My wife did her best under the conditions and most likely prayed for the end, which came none too soon for her. We exited the floor to a polite but generous smattering of applause.
The last couple (older), danced to a striptease song and bits of clothing were being strewn across the dance floor. The MC’s intervention was timely. There was a dance off between couple number 3 and couple number 5, which couple number 2 won handily.
As consolation, all contestants were awarded a fifty dollar gift card for the liquor mart. I am not quite sure that was enough to console my poor wife. I almost feel bad for having fun on the dance floor.