Evan’s 25th Reunion, Part V of III (I’ve got Street Cred)

Today's story is one that I can't thoroughly and accurately relay in one simple blog post. But I'm going to, so please forgive me if my words are a bit disjointed...

I know it sounds horribly stereotypical, but I believe that black people are generally better dancers than whites. I KNOW there are exceptions, and this is NOT some sort of value judgment, so just take the statement at face value… I’m going somewhere with this, so work with me.


Towards the end of the first night, a group of us decided it was time to hit a different bar. The building was home to a club we used to frequent when we were younger, but that establishment has long since disappeared. The business that replaced it was phenomenal! When I walked into 11 (I believe that was the name of the place… I was too intoxicated to remember), I felt like I was walking into an actual urban dance club! The music was the perfect volume and tempo for some serious booty-shaking, and the décor was exceptional. Heck, they even had a dress code (but they made an exception for us, cuz we RULE)!

Despite the atmosphere, the place was relatively empty. The bouncer said that they’d just opened up, which worked well for us… more room to dance. One thing I noticed was rather typical of any dance club. There were several young women dancing together, and invariably some dude tried to get in on the action… with absolutely no success. The women would turn their backs on the “player” and pretend like he didn’t exist until he (they) got the hint and skulked away. That all changed when I hit the scene.

I’m not going to make things sound like I was some sort of playboy myself, because that’s NOT the case. I’m a happily married man. The truth was far simpler… I just wanted to go out and dance. Since the wife was unavailable, I looked around for a classmate (or two) who wanted to hit the floor, and off we went. Ann, Babette (I think Shelly) and I were on the floor for only a couple of minutes, when the sharks started circling. Since we’re all veterans of the nightclub game, we all knew how to react… we didn’t specifically shut them out and we didn’t specifically ask them to join us either. But when they tried to do some not-so-subtle grinding, the girls moved closer to me, and the guys got the hint. Eventually, I was the only guy on the dance floor, and even the aforementioned young women, sensing that it was safe… rather, that I was safe… came back out to shake it. It kind of became an unspoken agreement that when the sharks circled, I was the safety net.

Now, this wasn’t JUST a case of me being a safe guy. In all humility, I’m pretty fly for a white guy. In fact, during this dance-fest, Babette’s boyfriend joined us on the dance floor, and she said something along the lines of “No offense honey, but I’d rather dance with [Evan]. Fortunately, Brian understood that I wasn’t moving in on his woman, and it was all good in the hood.

I must say that it was really FUN to dance like that… I haven’t done so for quite a while. And it was a nice boost to my middle-aged ego to be surrounded by all of those ladies. But what I think was funniest, was that all of the guys were standing at the edge of the dance floor, studying my moves. At one point, I leaned in to Ann and said “You know, every guy in this place will be copying my moves for months.” And, by the way, this is the point where I should mention that most of the guys studying my moves were black dudes, about 20 years younger than me.

And when I eventually did leave the dance floor to grab a beer, every guy in the joint – the ones who didn’t know me, anyway -- showed their respect by giving me a wide area of space. Seriously, these cats walked waaaaay around me. What can I say? I guess I’ve got street cred! Apparently, more than I realize.

By the way... there's a hidden moral to all wannabee playas out there. If you want a chance with the single ladies who are out there in a group with their girlfriends, you will NOT get what you want by imposing yourself and sticking your junk in their faces. What you need to do is get out on the floor, be willing to look like a fool, and just dance with yourself. Hell, you don't even need to have that many moves... just get out there and look confident. The women will come to you!