Sunday, 11 November 2012

King of the Dance Floor

Two years ago I was named the King of the Dance Floor in my youth group. At the young age of fifteen I became a champion of a sport I had well and truly avoided up until then. In fact, the previous year I had been the shy, depressed kid that no one knew. So how did I go on to become the King of the Dance Floor?


It all started with a couch. One night at youth we had all the normal chairs set up in the auditorium, and one couch. On the couch was a bucket off chips, soft drink, and chocolate. It was the ultimate prize. The winner of whatever competition we had would get to sit in that couch will all the junk food to themselves and a friend for the whole service.

As soon as I saw it I knew I had to have it. No matter what the game was I was going to try and win that couch with all my effort. Little did I know that to win the couch, the competition would be a dance-off.

Justin Bieber's Baby had come out just that year and it was still huge, so lo and behold, it was the song of choice for the competition.

I had never had any dancing lessons before this. Heck, I don't think I'd ever danced at all before this. But I knew I was going to win that couch. So when the music started and people started going up the front, I grabbed my best friend by the arm and dragged him up. We stood at the front and centre of the stage and danced our hearts out.

But the question still stands, how did the shy, lonely kid become dance champion?

Enthusiasm.

I couldn't dance, but I could certainly make an idiot of myself.

My friend and I, through intuition and teamwork; invented a dance to go along with Justin Bieber's Baby that very night. It had three moves that we repeated over and over. It wasn't technical, complicated, or impressive, but my goodness we put everything into it.

We won the privilege of sitting in the couch that night. The two of us became the idiots that invented a dance to Justin Bieber.

But the story doesn't end there. Oh no. All through that year we had many more dance-offs. We have this competition we call tribal wars, and in 2010 the theme was battle of the sexes.

Every week the boys would face off against the girls. And every time the scores were tied, a dance-off was called as a tie-breaker to decide the winner. One boy and one girl would face off in a dance to Justin Bieber's Baby to decide who won that night. And every time, I was elected to represent my gender and dance-off against the girls.

An incredible honour, no doubt, but terrifying. All the boys in the youth group riding on my shoulders, dancing against some girls that had clearly been in training for that event their whole lives.

I never lost a dance-off.

Not because I'm an incredible dancer, or know all the moves, or anything else. I simply put 210% into every dance.

I'm talking about huge arm movements, over-the-top expression, hopelessly trying manouvers I'm definitely not capable of doing, and being an idiot on stage.

Because people like the idiot. People like the clown, the joker, the jester. When you make an idiot of yourself, people love it! People applaud stupidity!

I went on not only to become King of the Dance Floor at youth, but I did shuffling solos at my school, specifically on a camp to Central Australia.

I also helped judge a dance competition this year, to see who would represent the youth group at a larger scale competition.

My friend from the start of the story (Who I named my Queen of the Dance Floor) and I had a chance for another dance-off just this week. A chance to get the gang back together again - this time with backup dancers - and we delivered a performance that had the audience in thunderous applause.

I guess the moral of the story is:

When you accidentally make yourself look like an idiot; it's embarrassing for you and your friends.
But when you deliberately make yourself look like an idiot; you are the greatest thing that ever walked the face of the Earth.

No comments:

Post a Comment