[Bitscape removes shoes and other extraneous articles of clothing. Changes into something more comfortable.]

So. Tonight, I took a trip into Boulder to attend an event...

Wait. Let's rewind. Before that, I went to Wal Mart to equip myself with a few accessories (nothing terribly fancy; just a funky little belt, a new tshirt somewhat appropriate, and some goupy hair grease).

After this accessory run, I returned to the Compound and prepared myself (the rest of the family were off at some other venue). Put such a heavy dose of goop in my hair that I knew it would be over-the-top ridiculous. Donned my new shirt. Tightened the belt to a ridiculous degree, and used the excess to dangle in a funky little style below my waist. Again, over-the-top to the point of silliness, and I knew it.

It was then that Tobias and I took the journey into the great town of Boulder. And not just any part of Boulder. The destination was none other than the great and mighty pinnacle of civilization known as Pearl Street. But not just any place on Pearl Street. This time my target was very specific: The Boulder Theater.

What was going on at the Boulder Theater on this frosty Friday night which would lead me to go to such lengths? See the title of this rambling.

Material World: 80s Dance Party. Costume Contest! etc etc etc.

Except this time, I had planned a little bit more ahead. That, and my own transportation was available for this round.

Shortly before 2200, I approached the entrance. The usher told me they weren't quite ready to open yet, so I took a walk up and down Pearl Street in my short sleeves, practicing my technique to become one with the cold. By the time I got back, they were letting people in.

I eagerly purchased my ticket, showed my id, and was admitted into the den bursting with the pulsing rhythms and tunes of yesteryear, the sound augmented by the multicolored stage lights which rotated in time with the music.

The layout of the place was exactly as I remembered it. Bar at the back in the center. Tables and chairs on either side down to the third tier. Then the three levels of dance floors descending a few steps each, with the raised stage at the very front.

When I first entered, the place was completely empty, except for a few people at the bar. The floor was mine! All mine! Mwahahahaha!

Errr... well....

Actually, I stepped down to the first tier, stepped around it a bit, felt extremely self-conscious, took a seat at one of the chairs, and tapped my foot to the music.

Bawk bawk bawk! :)

After a minute or so, a few other people proceeded onto the floor and started doing their thing. At this point, I decided I had paid good money and good planning time for this, and I was gonna be damned if I didn't at least have a little FUN during the evening. So, still feeling self-conscious in the extreme, I got up, found a spot on the floor, and started... well... wiggling my feet around and jumping like an idiot.

I felt like a total fool, but I kept telling myself that this was okay. "You're supposed to be a fool here. You paid good money to be a fool. You do this sort of thing all the time at home by yourself, and when you get into it there, it's fun and relaxing! Here, there's more space, a bigger playlist, and louder speakers. So enjoy it!"

And so, I persisted. Gradually, the inner ice was melted by the sound of the beat, the movements of my body, and the intoxicating light effects. I started to experiment. Allowed my body to do whatever came to mind based on the sound that was playing. I knew I was being an idiot in front of a crowd of people, but as I continued to force myself, it bothered me less and less.

After a few minutes of that, I looked around to see who might be staring at me. Then I realized: Not only was no one staring at me, but the rest of the people surrounding me on the floor were just as talentless and foolish as myself. Nobody cared. Nobody worried. "And who cares about the people just sitting back in the chairs looking on. They're still too chicken to have any fun for themselves. Pity for them." From that point onward, my inhibitions were shed.

80s song after 80s song was played. The official opener of the night (when the D.J. said "welcome" to everybody) was Madonna's Holiday. Fitting. Very fitting.

It didn't take me long to work up a thick coat of sweat on my face. I was dancing hard, and I knew it. I kept going. (Sweat may or may not be sexy, but, to use a Borgism, I decided that sexiness is irrelevant. Well, the logic goes as such: I already know I'm hopeless in that department, so why waste energy and worry about it at the cost of having fun? Bah.)

After a good... however long it was, I decided to take a brief timeout. Went to the restroom, wet a paper towel with cold water, and cleansed my face. With that bit of refreshment, I was ready to go again. Back to the floor, to...

Work up some more sweat. lol. Hmm.... Maybe if I was in shape, that wouldn't happen so quickly. (Actually, I doubt it. My gut tells me that if I were in shape, I would just instinctively push myself all the more strenuously, and end up with the same result.)

Danced around, mingling in and out of various "groups". (If someone was truly bored enough to want to do a master's thesis, I imagine a good study could be made about the movement patterns of individuals, groups, and couples on such a dance floor. Or, maybe not.)

After generating a second coat of sweat, I rinsed off again. This time, I decided I was ready for a little break. And a drink. (I had decided beforehand that I would limit myself to one beer, if that. This because I needed to drive home afterwards.) Went to the bar, and ordered a nice, rich, sweet Guiness. They only had it in cans. I took it.

I decided to drink to the non-revelation I had had a few hours before. To my non-revelation!

Took a gulp. And another. I estimate that less than 60 seconds later, the beer was gone. Back to the dance floor.

Went back, and danced my heart out. When Into the Groove came on, it hit the spot perfectly. Many calories were burned.

As the night went on, I experimented with engaging various members of the opposite gender in flirtatious behavior. First lurk, watch others, and in doing so, learn what the loosely defined rules are. Then take a try.

When in one of the "groups", make eye contact, and dance next to someone for a while. Doesn't matter if you really think you like them or not, cause it's all just harmless fun. Continue to do so for a while, possibly breaking off from the group, and dance until one or both "moves on". Few words, if any, ever need to be spoken. Rinse and repeat.

Then, when I got tired of that for a while, go back, find a space, and focus purely on the dance again. Optionally, glob onto another "group" when ready.

That was fun. I think I felt more free in there than I've felt in a long time. I felt secure. I was in a room full of people I didn't know, and will probably never see again. That's exactly how I wanted it.

It was like.... I could just hang out, be free, become one with the music, one with the crowd, laugh and cheer when someone got in the center of the circle and made a cool move, and experience the presence of others. A given person may or may not like you, but that's no big deal, because you just move on, keep dancing, and not miss a beat. No bad will. No gut fear of being stabbed in the back when you round a corner. It's just... positive, good, collective energy. I needed that.

Well, much music was played, from... I can't remember most of them. I got tons more exercise. Oh, I remember doing a really intense (at least it seemed that way to me) step to that Salt'n'Peppa tune. Push It. I just let the floodgates of emotion open onto the floor with that one. Boom.

Oh, and toward the end they played Bon Jovi toward the end. I'm not sure which of these two is scarier: Witnessing a crowd full of twenty-somethings hollering lyrics at the top of their lungs to long-dead songs that were popular back when they were growing up, or... the fact that I was hollering right along with them.

But there's a valid excuse. We were drunk!

Sure. That was it.

Well, after a phase of slightly harder music -- after Bon Jovi, they played Beastie Boys and ACDC -- which was then topped off by Like A Virgin, I decided I had had my fill. The music continued, and the D.J. encouraged people to stay a bit as more New Order started up, but it was apparent that things were winding down. I was exhausted. I took a sip of water (they were kind enough to provide cups to drink from the fountain), and headed out into the night.

On the way back to Tobias, I noticed the Shambhala Center across the street, where I had meditated a few nights before, and will probably do so again. What a small and lovely world Pearl Street is.

Upon entering Tobias, I noted the clock. 1:34. I had been in there for 3.5 hours. That's a lotta dancing.

Drove home under dense cover of fog. Very dense. I could hardly see the stoplights on South Boulder Road until I was right up near them.

And now, here I am, rambling even later into the night. I think it was a good idea to record this event in the rambling records. Another silly experience in the life of Bitscape. Life sucks. Life rocks. Life goes on.