We’ve all seen it.
You know, the person that’s in the club dancing up a storm like they’re either on ecstasy or re-creating Footloose. While we all came to move a little bit, we were smart enough to know that there wasn’t a music video shoot at the club tonight and that choreographed danced routines are better suited for You Got Served and breakdancing competitions.
Not this person.
They came prepared. They wore their adidas instead of the loafers. And those khaki cargo pants aren’t an accident either. Little do you know, they are looking to battle.
Look at you.
He thinks you’re a conservative punk! Wearing your fitted jeans and button-up. You’re not ready to party, you’re a corporate cutout. He’s the one who’s really hip-hop, even though both of you grew up in the suburbs and attended private schools where the black guys you knew were either geniuses or athletes.
But you aren’t the douche here.
You know the club is already packed tight and there really isn’t room for somebody to command that kind of dance floor space. Sure, if a Soul Train broke out it’d be cool, but no one signed off on being kicked accidentally by the asshole that’s doing too much.
What you missed when you went and got another beer was the guys who walked in looking like extras from the video.
So now Douche Dance-a-lo has some competition, and these guys aren’t slouches. Unlike the tipsy chick about to break her neck dancing on the bar or the first-time clubber who is getting more quarters than dollars thrown at her in the go-go cage right now, these fuckers are going to take up a lot of room and are ready to jerk.
Jerk. You know. The latest seizure-like dance trend from California. Crumpin was so three years ago man. So was the Heisman and Soulja Boy, Stanky Legg and the Roy. Don’t worry about what the new dance is, they’ll show you. (Like it or not).
Seriously, what’s the age limit on dance trends?
Like an adult, you stick with your two-step. Like Jay-Z says, “you’re in a good groove.” But DJ Dumbass cues up Fergie’s “London Bridge.” It’s not a new song, and it’s not really for dudes but don’t tell them that. Somehow their sweet moves have gotten a member of the opposite sex to grind on them.
After ignoring the subtle racism that is our little dancer reaching out to fist bump the black guy that he doesn’t know. You pray that “Single Ladies” isn’t in the queue, that’s the song that turns the dance floor into a runway and the one most likely to make your significant other embarrass you.
Thank God for security.
See what the clubs care about more than their patrons is the bar. And now that you’ve made the server drop a couple drinks, you’ve just made them lose money.
Big mistake, dance fever.
After laughing at that person and crew getting tossed out of the club like Uncle Phil throwing Jazz in the Fresh Prince, you realize things are kind of dead now. I mean, there aren’t any characters inside anymore. No one to laugh at, no one that’s wildin’, basically, no one to keep the party going.
Maybe its true, every party needs an asshole.
