An Awkward Valentine’s Dance
Forty dollars for a jukebox dance? Are you insane?
Thirty odd years ago my wife and I were in a somewhat uncomfortable motel in New York state. I had just finished up a week long consulting gig nearby. It was time to head back home, but it was Sunday and it happened to be Valentine’s Day. We decided to stay over and set off for home in the morning.
I asked the desk clerk about a movie theatre or something else we might go around there on Saturday night. He told us that another couple staying at the motel had mentioned that they were going to the Valentine’s Dance just down the road at another motel. That sounded like fun to us, so we called to confirm that we could go, got directions and were on our way not too long after.
The motel we arrived at was a bit ratty looking, but there were quite a few cars in the parking lotn and we could hear loud music blasting away within. As we walked from our car we could see people dancing in bright lights through large windows. They were dressed up and we were not. We hesitated. Should we go?
I shrugged my shoulders and said we’d ask at the door. If they didn’t want us as we were, we’d leave. No problem. We didn’t want to spoil anything for other people.
The man at the door greeted us with a smile. “It’s $40.00, folks”, he said.
What? Sure, you might pay $40 today for a dance at a nice place with a live band. This was thirty years ago, it was not a nice place, and I could now see that the music was coming from a jukebox. Forty dollars was insane.
My face surely expressed my astonishment. He noticed and frowned. “You do know this is a Swingers Dance, right?”
Umm, no, we did not. This newfound knowledge explained the exorbitant cover charge, but we just wanted to dance. I explained that. He shrugged. “That’s fine, but it’s still forty bucks. There’s food,” he added as though that would clinch the deal.
I looked at my wife. She shrugged. The music was good, the place was jumping. She wanted to dance. I turned back to the doorkeeper.
“No means no here, right?”. I knew that much about swingers at least.
“Sure.”
“Would anybody get mad at us?”, I asked.
“Naw. They’ll think it’s funny. Heck, I think it’s hilarious!”
I reluctantly parted with two twenties and we were waved in. We pushed into the dance floor and started dancing. Well, my wife dances. She’s a very enthusiastic and skilled dancer. I’m a clumsy lug with no rhythm, but I dance with my wife because she loves to dance. People crack jokes about my dancing, but they are awestruck by hers.
As expected, we were propositioned a few times. We politely turned them down, explaining our accidental appearance. Word spread, and the interruptions dropped off.
But suddenly I heard a laugh from across the room. I stopped dancing and turned to locate the sound. Why would I do that, you ask?
Because this was a laugh I knew. It was a special laugh, an extremely unusual laugh. I knew it from someone who was another client of mine back nearer to home. Could there really be two people who shared this amazing laugh?
He laughed again and I spotted him. It was the man I thought it was. He saw me, looked confused for a moment, and then smiled and waved. I hesitated and waved back. My wife was now confused and asked why I had waved. I quickly explained it to her.
She became very anxious. “This is not good!”, she whispered. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that He of The Loon Laugh was pointing at me and talking to someone else. Oh, boy.
But then I thought about it. So what? We knew each other from that work, but we had no other connection. I didn’t care if this was his lifestyle. If he thought this was our lifestyle, he shouldn’t care either. His checks for my consulting time would be just as good. I said as much to my wife. She wasn’t happy, but there wasn’t much to be done about it. We went back to dancing.
He never approached us. Someone must have clued him in about our accidental visit. The dance ended, we went back to our motel. In the morning we headed home.
I never heard from that client again.