Where the party was that night, Part 2

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The day drew to a close, and a very happy Rahul congratulated me on making it through the prelims. The finals were a day later, and I couldn’t not win, he said. I smiled and nodded, as the butterflies in my stomach seemed to enjoy mating season. The new day dawned, and even the skies seemed arranged in some sort of devilish grin. I ignored my overactive imagination and went about my work. A small grin here, a smile there, I was even starting to become less nauseous… I could actually look at food by the time evening came round.

All participants were required to assemble in the barn half an hour earlier, so that the organisers could spit out all sorts of conditions while we still contemplated how stupid we were. I vaguely heard a disclaimer to the effect that they would not be liable to the mental or physical torture we may undergo after the event, but dismissed it as a bad joke. Turns out the joke was on me…

The interaction parties were pretty standard. I’d been involved in organising one, in fact, and there cant be two ways it plays out… People come in, music plays, a random event takes place, and people wait for the breaks between events, when the music plays and they have an excuse to jump around like idiots and bang into other idiots, and depending on the genders involved, giggle or grunt. The simplicity of the entire thing was pure genius.

I managed two rounds without getting too bashed up. In fact, I actually had some self respect left going into the final round, a surprise, we were told. I actually like surprises… they remind me of birthdays, and birthday cakes, and chocolates… the whole deal. I was pretty much spaced out, on a time trip back to my 8^th birthday with a huge bugs bunny cake, when the crowd went deathly still. Then there was chaos. I started, as a visibly shaken competitor informed me that we were required to dance.

I should have expected it, what with the numerous prophetical signs… but of all things Dance?!?! I can dance well enough to pass time in the room… deft foot here and another jump there has even got me a few murmured compliments. But all that does nothing to the fact that God, no doubt chuckling to himself way up, decided to give me two left feet. Or two right feet, doesn’t really make a difference… the fact was that I couldn’t dance to save my life. If ever I’m given a choice between dancing in front of my entire batch, and skinny-dipping into boiling oil, I’d go for the latter. It s only humane… the first option would kill a lot more people.

The next day dawned, cheery as ever. The whole world seemed happy. Videos of me onstage were already doing the rounds, and many were roaring for an encore. It was widely believed that I would be approached by the Press to clear the air on if what I did was a solo version of the tango or the salsa, but some popular actress had sneezed up a controversy and saved me the blushes, Bless her…