Nobody can resist the call of the Chicken Dance. No One.
I’m impersonating Zonker this weekend, playing photographer at a reunion at my alma mater. It’s for graduates of the 1970s and beyond. I actually get a kick out of it, watching grandmothers and grandfathers return to the days of their youth. (By 7 p.m. more than 22 bottles of wine were headed to that great recycling bin in the sky).
As you would assume, the best photos center on the dance floor. We’ve already gone through the big CD, the Electric Slide, Down By the Boardwalk, and … my favorite (I’m serious, it had me dancing all my by lonesome while I clicked away) … Miss Grace.
So I’m sitting here after two beers and a glass of wine (open bars rock) glancing through my shots. I had to share two, the one above and the one below. I think both capture the spirit of tonight pretty well. No matter the age, reunions are designed to revisit your youth and throw caution to the wind. You only live once and you can never truely go back, but for one weekend you can pretend H.G. Wells wasn’t fiction but fact.
I hope I’m having this much fun 30 years from now.