A Thing That (Seriously) Happened to Me Today.
So, I dance. Probably more than you know.
It comes out in little ways, a shimmy and/or a shake to the errant bassline from a passing tricked-out sedan, or perhaps a bobbing of the head and a swing of the hips to a remembered melody as I rummage through the kitchen cupboard for a packet of fresh chips.
Either way, I dance. You might even be aware of this if you've spend much time in my company, ever. It is apparently noticeable, and happens in public, without even the slightest of considerations on my part.
And so today, as I waited for my exquisite smelling (and tasting, I would later find-) sandwich, I found myself finding my groove at a Subway shop to the radiowave delivery of Telephone. Reasonably, I think you'll find(*1), given as the song is quite agreeable- even if not exactly good.
It was at a particular part in the song, you might know it(*2), where Ms. Jigga informs us as to how busy she kinda is, and I did her vogue from the video. This was probably, almost assuredly, absolutely absurdly, perfectly gay. But in an alright sort of way, since I work in San Francisco. I might get a sideways glance, but nothing to sweat over- if not for the empowered, strong, pretty young thing to my right, waiting behind me for my custom-made sub to finish toasting.
She, she responded in what follows logically only now in hindsight- she began to sing along, and busted out the dance routine in a way such as to humble an amateur like myself.
Yes, today I was in my first fierce-off.(*3)
And, so, facing the utter absurdity of the petite haute chic young doll, I did the absolutely only thing I possibly could do when faced with an expert dancer in a very public Subway on the corner of a well-traversed intersection- I danced right back at her. For 30 seconds.
I matched the video as well as I could, and she followed my lead (if one should be so generous to call it that-) and we only stopped when the attending sandwich artiste, bewildered at the nigh-insanity facing her, stopped me to ask what kind of vegetables I wanted. I let her know(*4) and prepared to pay.
It was when the sandwich witch wrapped my sub that the songstress aggressor commented on the appearance of my sub. It looked like bacon, and she thought it looked delicious (and it was, as I said before(*5).) She wanted one, and for me to have a good day in addition.
And so it went, that I left the sandwich shop. A little wiser, a little weirder, and with one hell of a spring in my step. Because I didn't win, but I don't think I lost, either.
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*1 - And probably already have, since the damn video was wallpapered all across'd teh intarwebz for weeks preceeding this afternoon.
*2 - See also (*1)
*3 - Tim suggests that it was really more of a fierce-gatheration, owing to the lack of real conflict. Alls I know is that it was fierce as fuck. And also spoilery, which is why the footnotes go under the cover(s.)
*4 - Lettuce, Onion, Olives and Mustard.
*5 - It was pastrami, of course it was delicious.
It comes out in little ways, a shimmy and/or a shake to the errant bassline from a passing tricked-out sedan, or perhaps a bobbing of the head and a swing of the hips to a remembered melody as I rummage through the kitchen cupboard for a packet of fresh chips.
Either way, I dance. You might even be aware of this if you've spend much time in my company, ever. It is apparently noticeable, and happens in public, without even the slightest of considerations on my part.
And so today, as I waited for my exquisite smelling (and tasting, I would later find-) sandwich, I found myself finding my groove at a Subway shop to the radiowave delivery of Telephone. Reasonably, I think you'll find(*1), given as the song is quite agreeable- even if not exactly good.
It was at a particular part in the song, you might know it(*2), where Ms. Jigga informs us as to how busy she kinda is, and I did her vogue from the video. This was probably, almost assuredly, absolutely absurdly, perfectly gay. But in an alright sort of way, since I work in San Francisco. I might get a sideways glance, but nothing to sweat over- if not for the empowered, strong, pretty young thing to my right, waiting behind me for my custom-made sub to finish toasting.
She, she responded in what follows logically only now in hindsight- she began to sing along, and busted out the dance routine in a way such as to humble an amateur like myself.
Yes, today I was in my first fierce-off.(*3)
And, so, facing the utter absurdity of the petite haute chic young doll, I did the absolutely only thing I possibly could do when faced with an expert dancer in a very public Subway on the corner of a well-traversed intersection- I danced right back at her. For 30 seconds.
I matched the video as well as I could, and she followed my lead (if one should be so generous to call it that-) and we only stopped when the attending sandwich artiste, bewildered at the nigh-insanity facing her, stopped me to ask what kind of vegetables I wanted. I let her know(*4) and prepared to pay.
It was when the sandwich witch wrapped my sub that the songstress aggressor commented on the appearance of my sub. It looked like bacon, and she thought it looked delicious (and it was, as I said before(*5).) She wanted one, and for me to have a good day in addition.
And so it went, that I left the sandwich shop. A little wiser, a little weirder, and with one hell of a spring in my step. Because I didn't win, but I don't think I lost, either.
-----------------------------------------
*1 - And probably already have, since the damn video was wallpapered all across'd teh intarwebz for weeks preceeding this afternoon.
*2 - See also (*1)
*3 - Tim suggests that it was really more of a fierce-gatheration, owing to the lack of real conflict. Alls I know is that it was fierce as fuck. And also spoilery, which is why the footnotes go under the cover(s.)
*4 - Lettuce, Onion, Olives and Mustard.
*5 - It was pastrami, of course it was delicious.