Monday, March 31, 2008

You can take the girl to the bar, but can you take the bar out of the girl?

After the tenth trip in and out of the bar at the ice rink, people were starting to wonder about me. I do have a wee bladder, but I wasn't using the little girl's room. I was playing an arcade game — Dance Dance Revolution.

As I spied little tots stepping on its squares earlier that day, the game's neon lights dared me to embarrass myself. I wanted to play so bad. But I knew moving the machine into a room with a locked door and no windows wasn't an option.

So I waited for the little tots' moms to round them up. I wanted for the hockey game's time clocks to tick down. I waited until the only sound was that of the cleaning lady vacuuming around my fixation.

Then I approached, mounted and boogied. It boooed at me in the worse way. So I danced harder. I wasn't giving up. I could do it.

A fortune later, (and several trips into the bar for change) I had mastered it. And I had to be pulled off it when it was time to go home.

But just those mere moments had revolutionized me.
Because I wasn't the same old Sarah in the bar, bored with a beer.
I was the kid on the arcade, drunk with fun.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

i love that game!!