Challenge #4 The Kizomba Dance Party

Listen to me read the story here or read it below:

The bar was in a distant part of the city. I climbed into the bus remembering the times when I used to go to that part of Munich to eat fried sushi with friends. The memory stuck in my throat and I swallowed hard. Those friends were long gone and although it felt alright, I still looked back with a bit of a twinge.

The bus driver seemed talkative. He looked at me and asked where I come from. I patiently yet warily told him of my roots in the States and in Africa. He asked me whether I like Munich.

“Yes, very much,” I said. He looked at me surprised.

“I do not like it,” he says.

“So why do you stay?” I asked.

He seemed taken aback by the directness of my question. He gave a trivial answer, sat down in his seat and started his route. I sat silent wondering if he felt affronted and why it is that he felt he could not change his surroundings. Fear will mostly be a big reason. But why live where you cannot love?

“Why is it that people focus on Plan B,” a friend once asked me, “and wait for something to happen before working towards Plan A?” Who knows, I thought, realizing that I had once been guilty of the same. The bus reached my stop. The bus driver and I said a somewhat forced goodbye. I looked around in the darkness and started towards the restaurant.

The restaurant was small. I walked in unsure of what to expect. I looked around and before I could focus my eyes on the bar, there she was, 110 pounds flying at me, throwing her arms around my neck. My face lit up, seeing my friend so happy. The unexpected smile made it easier to hide the work day stress which had insisted on accompanying me.

The plan had been to stay home, make pot pies and relax on the couch. That sounded fantastic, and standing amidst unfamiliar faces it even sounded glorious. My friend pulled me to the bar and introduced me to the dance teacher and the DJ. I smiled and thought of my husband at home in his pajamas, warm on the sofa, eating his famous homemade pot pie.

“Why are you so boring?!” I asked myself harshly.

My friend had dressed for the occasion in a tight dress that showed off every curve possessed, and I stood there in a loose sweater with a matching shawl loop and a face that said, “I just came from work.”

Looking up from the menu I saw that the empty bar began to fill up. There was no getting out of this. I would be dancing tonight. I ordered a cocktail with lots of pink and sugar.  It tasted like purple and a smile snuck across my face. I moved to the dance floor and put the drink down on a table.

I sat down next to my drink and put my hand around it. “At least we have each other,” I thought. My friend was out on the dance floor, moving like a whirlwind through a grateful desert. She was so graceful, confident and clear. Everyone was dancing and before I knew it the dance teacher was asking me if I would like to join him on the floor.

“I don’t know the steps!” I said or possibly yelled at him through the music. He grabbed my hand and reassured me I would learn them in no time. Slowly we began to move, him telling me each step beforehand. With each movement I could feel the stress of the day begin to melt away. If my hair had been up I would have let it down.

My mind drifted back to the bus driver. Mentally I sent him love and a little courage to let his hair down. We drag our day jobs, disappointments and expectations around with us like a ball and chain. Sometimes we just have to be happy where we are, for the companionship, for the challenges that manifest wisdom and simply enjoy life’s little adventures.

The work place is not the beginning and end of all things, and I should be careful not to make it my constant companion. On the other hand I had to smile at myself. Spontaneity was never a value of mine. Spontaneity is only possible when I’ve been notified at least 72 hours ahead of time. My friend had violated that policy and unexpectedly pulled me from a gray world into one with blinding, flashing lights, pink drinks and bright faces. Though I have absolutely no intention of rewriting that policy, I am grateful for those friends who occasionally show up at our door and pull us down the rabbit hole into worlds unknown.