“There’s Only One of Those Guys in This Whole Place, and We Got Him.”

That’s what I said to Jeff, Rebecca, Eric and Mike last night at the Violent Femmes show.  I was referring to the guy directly in front of me.  You know the one.  He stands there normally and gives you no warning that the second the music starts, he is going to start jumping high into the air, flailing his arms around, and catapulting into everyone around him with category 5 hurricane force.  I looked around, and everyone else in that place was enjoying the music in a civilized manner.  Dancing, sure, but keeping within their own little personal-space box.  So why did we have to get right behind this guy? Why?

As it turns out, I was wrong.  He wasn’t the only one, and about 20 minutes into the show, his 6"5′ friend came and joined in the crazy dancing.  I heard our crazy dancing guy say to the new, tall crazy dancing guy, "I know, why isn’t anyone dancing, Man?"

I’ll never forget the look of horror on the face of the girl standing on the other side of Jeff when TCD guy moved in front of her and began thrashing around.  She couldn’t have been more than 5 feet tall herself, and any hope she still held about enjoying the show had just been crushed.  A few minutes later, a third, female crazydancing friend came and joined the first two.  They were multiplying.  Thankfully, after a while we were able to sidle our way to the left enough that they weren’t directly knocking into us.  We breathed a sigh of relief.

Then came "American Music."  The crazydancers had apparently been secretly sprinkling their crazy dancing dust on everyone in front of them, because all of a sudden the whole front part of the floor went wild, and we were in a kind of dorky high school mosh pit, but instead of pressing forward, they were all just running around crashing into each other like bumper-humans, and laughing like it was the funnest thing they had ever done.  I have never seen anything like it. I mean, I like American Music tooo, bay-beee, but this was taking it to a whole new, unneccesary level.

I sought shelter behind a big, stocky Latino guy who was having none of it, and who unknowingly acted as my human shield.  Jeff was on my right, deflecting any rogue human pinballs.  Any time one of the crazydancers was hurled in our direction, Jeff and the stocky guy would put out a hand and push them back into the human pile of crazydancing.

Eventually we moved farther back and were able to enjoy the show without being distracted by flailing limbs and headbutting.  I’m frankly amazed that I only got my toe stomped on once, and nothing even spilled on me.  Rebecca left with considerably more beer in her hair than she came with, but all in all we survived unscathed.

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