We walked over to the section of the casino that boasted live music. Earlier in the evening I heard stories about how the last time they were at this casino there were a number of older people dancing away. Since we hadn’t heard any music coming from the area earlier, we assumed there would be nothing to look at.
We were wrong. We sidled up to the small ledge around the window that encircled the dance floor. THE band consisted of a bass, guitar and drum player. We looked at each other, raised our eyebrows and said, hey, its oldies night! We didn’t know that our words would be prophetic, but as soon as the first song ended and the familiar riffs of Mustang Sally punctuated the air an older woman popped up and started to dance.
She was awesome. She moved rhythmically and with a great deal of style. She was a pleasure to behold. It was clear that she was in her late 50s or early 60s.
Soon after, a tall woman in a blue shirt and a shorter woman wearing a red top (both in their 60s) entered the dance floor along with a couple and eventually, a gentleman wearing a cowboy hat. They danced to a fast-paced James Bond movie song whose title escapes me. The man in the hat danced around and around the ladies in red and blue.
Then a very old woman, wearing a knit hat jumped onto the dance floor and … ok, she shuffled onto the dance floor wearing a mauve cap that looked like a cross between the captain of Captain and Tenille and a Rastafaria beanie, and clapped her hands as she danced around.
We looked at each other and stifled a giggle.
Refocused on the dancing, I thought about how wonderful it must be to get your groove on, regardless of the critics and naysayers.
Suddenly we heard a page overhead indicating that our stay was over and our party waited at the exit. As we turned to leave, a gentleman asked me, aren’t you going to dance?
And I wondered….am I?
Thanks for being my friends.