It's a scene from "Animal House": Otis Day and The Nights are on stage at a local club.
Big Guy: " Do you mind if we dance with your dates?"
Boon: "Why, no, not at all, go right ahead."
After bonding a few hours with a red Solo cup and the pledge working the keg, there are a few handfuls of University guys that just might try to rival the Big Guy's glory. From the moves I've spotted through a smoky Thursday night haze, there already are one too many guys at the University who believe that they the true Mr. Dance TV. Meet the contestants:
The Obsessive Compulsive Dipper
Dancing with the obsessive-compulsive dipper is like going on a ride at Planet Fun. It's entertaining at the beginning, but gets old quick. You might as well chug a few Barbados Bombers and enter a limbo contest because he has no concept of that fact that you do, indeed, have 33 (flexible as they may seem) fragile vertebrate composing your spine.
Furthermore, the floor sludge that is now clinging to the ends of your hair is not too attractive. You never planned to mop a fraternity house basement with your head - you thought that was what pledges were for. This guy is guaranteed to take you down to Paradise City, but the question is: Will he let you back up?
Twinkle Toes
He always seemed completely normal. Twirl, pretzel - he did it all. Yet there was something strange about that night at formal. The wind whistled ever so softly through the tent flaps, and bottles clinked in the distance. Ah yes, and now that you think about it, there was a full moon.
You peered through a jungle of strapless silk and taffeta numbers and oh the horror, the horror! Some defended him, saying that his toe-heel, toe-heel and ball change, sachet step was just a reenactment of Michael Jackson's moon dance. Yet you knew better. The warning signs were all there. The moment he slipped on that black pair of shoes, it brought him back to fond memories of the summer of '89, when his mother drove him every afternoon to jazz lessons.
Patrick Swayze Wannabe
I was strolling around one morning last year, rehydrating myself with a quart of fierce-lime Gatorade when I came across a distraught hall-mate. "He ran toward me, and then slid on his knees - like Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing. Everyone stopped and stared, so I just walked away," she lamented. He must have been pretty inspired by those Saturday TBS classic movie marathons.
In fact, after a group of us watched "Center Stage," we were convinced by around 3 a.m. that our true calling was the American Ballet. But honestly, these surges of confidence can be very rattling if unsuspected.
Last year, during my first week of school as I innocently chatted away, some unknown blond swept me up in his arms, my legs dangling over his like a baby's. He then proceeded to twirl me around as if he were a fantastic babysitter playing airplane. Yes, I may be petite, but it is moments like those when I would love to put on some shades and go incognito.
Goody Two Shoes
First-year girls always eat up this guy's act. Van Morrison's tune will come on, and he'll dip you slowly, singing, "You, my brown-eyed girl." Too bad you have straw blond hair and bright blue eyes. Too bad you have no intention of "a laughing and a running, hey, hey, behind the stadium," with him.
If you're one of those girls who finds his little serenade adorable, well, that's just splendid! If it instead starts to produce a gag reflex, I suggest that you swiftly and slyly sha-la-la-la-la away.
Snoop Doogie Howser
There is a picture of him with his cat, Mittens, in his top dresser drawer, under his immaculately folded pile of flannel and tartan plaid boxers. When no one is around he irons and starches his button-downs, so that the collar flips up just the right amount - not too '80s but just like the wind blew it up slightly. He knows that squash is a sport, not just a vegetable and is quite good at it.
Yet oddly enough, the moment the CD switches from Led Zeplin to Nelly, he'll be pumped and grab any girl at arm's length. Unfortunately he usually mistakingly picks the one who was hoping they'd play something cute, i.e. "Take Me Home Tonight." He gets ditched, and is left alone to contort his body awkwardly to the undecipherable lyrics.
Rock On! (Risk Factor 7.5)
Everyone loves this guy because he is fun, sweet and belts out the words simply because he loves the song. The slight problem occurs when while dipping you, "Sweet Home Alabama" comes on and in loyalty to his home state he raises both hands in the "rock on" signal. There's no better way to get well acquainted with the hardwood floor at Wild Wing Cafe.
Sadly you'll have to hit Clearview Cleaners on Monday to shamefully sign the waiver saying that you will not sue if they shrink your dress while attempting to remove unidentifiable sludge.
If you haven't patented your own move already, just practice up one of these for the weekend. You'll be all set as long as your hands aren't clammy and you don't whine every five seconds that the girl is leading.
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