the 941

A couple dozen New College students, a couple dozen mp3 players, a parade of bewildered tourists.

I’ve often fantasized about a dance party where I select the entire playlist. No more trying to dance, dancing forces itself upon me.

Commence the headphones dance party. We biked from Myrtle Avenue to St. Armand’s Circle, where each of us hooked up our headphones, squeezed our eyes shut and danced it out. Passersby stopped and stared. While I took photos, an Asian tourist approached and asked, “What they doing?” Dancing, duh.

The only drawback was you couldn”t dance with another person. You’d try, then all of a sudden they’d mouth a scream and jump in the air. What are you doing? There’s no scream at this part.

After a half hour or so, we dance-ran down to Lido beach, where we set to dancing on the shoreline. I played some Smiths, some Magnetic Fields, some Talking Heads. Out of curiosity, I paused my iPod to see what we looked like without music.

It just seemed like they were keeping really bad time with the sound of the surf. I guess your ear looks for rhythm where it can find it. Your ear looks? Never mind.

Check out these photos from the party:

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