It started so simply: All I did was ask my friends if I should either wear my dog’s Cone of Shame or dress like an Oompa-Loompa as punishment for playing chicken when I should have been playing Tag with unsuspecting people. A pretty common request, I thought.
The result was neither, but rather I should DanceWalk down Yardley’s Main Street, an upcoming event that I’m now preoccupied with as I consider the possibilities. I’m also a little worried as others consider the possibilities for me.
The e-mails I receive suggesting songs and attire make me think I’m not the only one tightrope-walking the line of insanity.
So as I prepare for Saturday’s big event, I’ll detail my daily plans leading up to a DanceWalk that I expect will make me the Pied Piper of Peculiar as others join me in the parade.
Gray Handwerk suggested the idea after seeing a TV clip about DanceWalking, a spirited hybrid that combines walking and whatever dance steps you feel like adding. I spent Day 1 considering the dance moves I’ll incorporate.
They are: the Safety Dance, Madonna’s Vogue, Michael Jackson’s Moonwalk, The Twist, the Macarena, the Electric Slide, the Chicken Dance, the Robot, the Sprinkler, the Lawnmower, the M.C. Hammer dance, the Ickey Shuffle, the Running Man, and the Turtle. A friend suggested “Little Miss Sunshine’s” Superfreak, so that’s a must, and I still have a few days to add to my repertoire.
The stretch of Main Street my hoped-for crowd and I will be DanceWalking is about a quarter of a mile long, giving us plenty of time to mix and match all of our best moves.
The irony of all this: I don’t dance. I haven’t danced since I sported a 1980s-era mullet and Mr. Mister was rocking “Kyrie.” The reason I don’t dance goes along the lines of my mom’s oft-repeated quote: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” I can’t dance well, so I don’t dance at all.
Expect, of course, down Main Street for everyone to see.
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