January 30, 2010

Of Breakfalls in Cocktail Dresses

You never quite know when the need for your martial arts knowledge is going to pop up. Muscle memory is important and the reason why a martial artist practices the same things over and over and over again. Last night I had to use one of my martial arts skills and you might be surprised to know which one and just how well it worked.

We went to Mr. BBM's work party last night and had a great time. I was able to meet Edward while there. Clearly, he digs me too.

Hello new Facebook profile picture. I was just gearing up to get out on the dance floor when the night ended abruptly after only making it into music from the 70's. When the DJ was playing the last song at 10:30, a group of Mr. BBM's co-workers started plotting our after party plans. We made our way to the parking lot, where we realized that strawberry colored coats and silver shoes are all the rage.

And then one of the girls mentioned a bar/nightclub down the road. Although there was much protesting from a Mr. BBM who knew that if he got me anywhere near a dance floor with music about "dropping it low" (My God-every song is about dropping it low these days), he was in for a long night (he would be correct), we were on our way. (Man, that was a horrible sentence. Please don't show my students.)

We arrived at the club where college students in the area probably go, slightly overdressed for the venue. But there is strength in numbers so we walked in with our heads held high. It didn't take long for a small group of us to make our way to the dance floor. It didn't take long for me to start harassing the DJ either.

I had three simple requests:

"Say Aah" by Trey Songz, "Blame it" by Jamie Foxx, and "Baby by Me" by 50 Cent.

The DJ took in this girl in the purple cocktail dress and couldn't help but be surprised that I wasn't requesting something more appropriate for a girl about to celebrate yet another anniversary of her 29th birthday. He told me he would play them all and I went back to the dance floor, happy to wait.

While waiting, the DJ put that line dance song on that goes something like "down down do do down" or something and since we were in the middle of the floor with nowhere to go, we figured we'd better learn how to do it. We watched this one young guy who clearly knew what he was doing and copied everything he did. He had a unique way of dancing that involved kind of hopping around on your feet and so we all joined in.

We were quite proud of our newly learned skills so we were demonstrating for a couple of people who weren't in the mood to get their groove on when the unthinkable happened. Someone had spilled their drink on the floor, and as everyone knows who reads this blog, if there is an accident about to happen, it will find me.

I hopped adeptly from foot to foot and then I was falling. My right foot slipped in the beer sludge and went flying across the floor, wiping my left leg out with it. I had a second of realization that I was going down and it was not going to be pretty.

And then I landed on the floor and was quickly back on my feet, thanks to Mr. BBM's P90X'ed arm that lifted me off the floor instantly. That's when I realized that I must have done a side breakfall because nothing hurt. I wiped my wet feet off, checked the status of my dress (totally dry), and told the bouncers to mop that up before someone (me) breaks a hip or something!

Then my night got even better. A young guy who was sitting nearby saw the whole thing and was smiling at me. If there's one thing people need to learn in life, it's to laugh at yourself. So I did. I nodded in his direction and put my arms out to indicate that my awesome slide declared me "safe." He laughed and a little later he came over to talk to me. The girls I was dancing with were rolling their eyes. Clearly he had not seen the ring or the wrinkles. His opening question was "What do you do for a living?"

I told him I taught at a university and he looked taken aback. "How old are you?" he blurted out before then telling me that he had asked a really rude question. I laughed. "How old do you think I am?" I asked him back.

Without a second thought he said "25" and that's when we became best friends. Seriously though, I cracked up laughing and told him he was off by about 10 years. When I told him I'd been married for over 10 years and have two kids he shook his head in disbelief and made his way back to his seat. He may have had a little encouragement from a guy by the name of "Bob the Blocker." The fiance of one of my dancing friends, he had a very refined way of getting guys to leave us alone.

Still, the guy made my night. When you're a week away from turning 35, that kind of compliment feels fantastic.

A little later, some guy decided to do that back into you and dance thing and started trying to talk to me. He asked me if he could buy me a drink. I told him I didn't think my husband would appreciate that very much and he said he would buy my husband a drink too because he's a "lucky man." Then he guessed that I was 22 years old.

He became my new best friend, and then made his way over to Mr. BBM to tell him how lucky he was to have me. I'm guessing that after picking me up off the floor, Mr. BBM wasn't feeling particularly lucky.

Clearly, I entered an alternate universe last night or something. In a place where young guys think I'm 22 and I actually know how to do breakfalls. . . that's the only possibility.