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Disco Daze -- No Petting, Pleeeze?

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Wheelchair Dancer Wheelchair Dancer | 04:06 UK time, Sunday, 20 April 2008

When I write about dancing, I often say things like, "well, you don't have to join a troupe, you can just shake your booty at a club." Shamefacedly, however, I have to say that I have never done that. I've been to clubs, yes. I have hung out at bars, yes. BUT up until last week, I have to say that I haven't actually done it.Ìý I was a wheelchair clubbing virgin.Ìý

Friday night, on tour.Ìý The hotel we were staying at was apparently a local "dancing destination."Ìý Seedy, sleazy, yeeeow.Ìý We were coming off a performance high and needed a way to come down.Ìý I ran to my room and pulled on a top, wriggled my way in to some leggings, reduced the stage makeup for regular makeup, pouted into the mirror, located my ID:Ìý good to go.Ìý

The West Coasters commandeered a table; we got some drinks.Ìý And people stared.Ìý Some 80's music began, and a friend and I bounced onto the floor.Ìý People froze.Ìý We played our part, of course; we bumped, slid, did the grind over body and chair, air-kissed, and generally danced as wildly as possible.Ìý The seconds of stillness eased into cautious movement; they would dance and then check over their shoulder to see if we were still happening.Ìý We were.

And then it began.Ìý People came over and started wanting to dance with me.Ìý These were kind of creepy pity dances, but, at first, I thought they would be fun to do -- freak people out a bit.Ìý No such luck.Ìý I danced wildly, sexily, skillfully, angrily.Ìý I danced all styles, free styles, no styles.Ìý No one noticed.Ìý I was going to charm, wow, dance, bludgeon these people into seeing me as a dancer and not as a brave, spirited girl.Ìý Instead, the evening got creepier: people wanted to touch.

My colleagues, ever the cynics, started a catalogue in case I wanted to charge for some combination of a simple dance, a dance with blessing or statement of amazement, a dance with a hug or a pat on the back, some combination of two or more of the former.

I had dug myself a very deep hole with no escape route.Ìý Dancing with them was not enough to stop the petting urge.Ìý Removing their arms from around me was apparently offensive to them.Ìý I danced myself into an angry frenzy and then, my rage dissipated; I was too exhausted to find it fun any more.Ìý One more sip at my drink, and I slunk off to wash their horrible bodies off mine and go to bed.

But not before the bouncer congratulated me on my wonderful attitude.

I should have known better.Ìý No.Ìý I did know better, but I thought I could outsmart them -- change the dynamic a little.

gah.Ìý just.Ìý gah.

Visit the of the Wheelchair Dancer

Comments

  • Comment number 1.

    This has had me concerned and puzzled. I imagine your rage and disappointment come from having purposefully set out to take your art, your dance to the dancefloor, only to find that booze and sleaze besmirched it. And how many of us have felt violated in some way when drink is around on the dancefloor? But then, just to play devil's advocate, how artistically-minded are even artistically-minded people when they've had too much to drink? You taking the floor to dance was way too complex a notion for the sozzled brains around you. And we're obviously not talking about the most open-minded individuals here. You outsmarted them. And the ones not too out of it will have been left with the seed of an idea that may lead someday to an altered outlook. If they have the ability to work it out. If they don't it's their loss far more than yours.

  • Comment number 2.

    Yeah. Not my finest moment by any means. It was a bad idea to begin with. And one that could probably have only been conceived in a post performance high.

    More sense next time.

    WCD

  • Comment number 3.

    Hey, a post performance high sounds pretty good to me...you did something spontaneous and daring without needing alcohol. That's another positive thing to come out of this. More sense? Or just wiser for this experience? Angry yes, defeated never!

Ìý

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