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Don't Get Closer, Vinegar Dancer

This past week I went to a Battle of the Bands type shindig, and one of the acts featured a guy playing a harp while simultaneously twiddling with a synthesizer. And you know, sometimes enough is enough.

One of my most memorable moments at a music show here in Seattle was when my husband played at the world's stinkiest venue. I can't remember the name or exactly where it was, but it reeked of arm pit smells. It just smelled as though the walls were coated with old perspiration. Or like if a dude collected a year's worth of his own sweat into a vial, and then the contents of the vial was diffused every hour on the hour from the ceiling. Or like if a bunch of hippies were congregating there, for the first time, that night, and that's the reason it smelled like that. Just from them being there at that point in time. It just smelled horrible, you get the picture.

I was standing by myself, enjoying the music, watching my husband's band perform their set, and this girl was dancing in front of me. She looked like, kinda dirty, and she was wearing contrasting print patterns. She was holding an open bag of salt and vinegar potato chips. She swayed back and forth, really freeing her spirit, right there in front of me, dancing in quite a wide radius, getting uncomfortably close to me at times, pausing every few seconds to grab a potato chip and eat it, chewing as she moved her body, sensually, eyes closed, becoming one with the music, again getting a little too close to me. I would back up a little, but not too much, because on either side, there's another person that I don't want in my personal space.

She actually turned around once, smiled so warmly like she knew me, and offered me a salt and vinegar potato chip. I said, "Ah, I'm good, thank you though." She laughed like the spirit of the night was telling her a funny joke and turned around to body roll to the sound of my husband's guitar playing.

First of all, I know salt and vinegar potato chips are good. I buy them sometimes. The acidity of the vinegar can be craveable. But to eat it in a public place, as you sway around, that's kind of weird. Just because, it's a shared public space, and the scent of vinegar is so ... sharp as it wafts. Not to mention the intermingling of body odor and potato chip. It's just all a bit much.

Second of all, dancing is great. I love to dance. No, I really do, I spent all of middle school and high school dancing after school. And I know they say, "Dance like no one's watching," but the reality is that someone IS watching. Me. Because I'm right behind you. They should amend that saying to,"Dance like no one is watching, but remember to not let your dancing infringe upon another's personal space and happiness."

I will never forget that vinegar-scented hippie girl. For 30 short minutes, our lives intersected, and I was changed. Seattle has so much to offer.


thank you, love you, xoxo ✨

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