Last night I went to what was essentially a private show, in a teeny tiny club. The band was The Mavericks — my second all time favorite band. (OK, the Beatles are my first all time favorite band, but a reunion is unlikely, two members being dead and all. So I’m down to a single performer Jimmy Buffett (who has an astonishingly good band, that doesn’t get nearly enough credit), and “groups”: The Eagles and The Mavericks.)
Some guy named Larry or Jerry to something had/has a 60th b-day this year and his wife hired The Mavericks to play at the party. The Mavericks are on their way to Australia, and they made this pit stop in Long Beach. I don’t know exactly how this works, but somehow the wife got the club reserved, it might — might — hold 300 people. She didn’t have that many people for the party, so the club (?) sold some tickets on line to the general public. I got one of those.
So I go to this tiny, underground club and I don’t know anybody in a room full of people that seem to know each other. I drifted to the edge of the group to keep out of the way. I ended up on the side of the stage. Larry/Jerry/whoever came in and there was a (not in union) shout of “Surprize”. Then at 8:30 or so — shockingly early for them — The Mavericks walked from the front door of the club, down the aisle (right past me) to the stage. After they walked literally right past me, within touching distance (within 2 inches, actually), and got on stage, I was standing not 10 feet from Eddie Perez and 15 feet at most from Raul Malo. And they launched into the first hour of their tour show.
They totally rock. I “like” very view pages on facebook and I follow even fewer, but The Mavericks is one of those that I “like” and follow. Every time they post a video/audio, I open and listen. Their music makes me smile (which is a variation of what I say about Buffett’s music, which makes me happy) and every single time it reminds me that I need to go see them in person again.
They played for an hour, took a 10 minute break, and then came back for a second set of — everything. Creedence, Fats Domino, music from the Carribean. Raul said “once a bar band, always a bar band”. Raul sang a great rendition of Blue Bayou. (Who wrote that?) I have never before been in such a small venue with such a big band. I’ve probably never seen everybody in the band drinking during a set, which could make for a looser show — but it didn’t make the music any less tight. They did ramble on a bit whilest speaking. In the first hour almost no talking, all music. In the second hour, a little more taking (but not a lot).
But this post is not really about the band. In watching the band, I was reminded last night of a truism. Men who want to have more fun — EVERYWHERE — single men who want to pick up girls/guys and married men who (1) want to pick up girls/guys, (2) have more fun, and/or (3) impress the hell out of the spouse — I have the absolutely, rock solid, never-ever fail pick up line: Learn to Dance.
There was a guy in this bar who could DANCE. He was a tall, rangy, good-looking guy with (it turns out) a great body — but he could DANCE. A sweet little thing was walking down the aside, and he grabbed her hand and gave her a spin, and, suddenly, they were dancing — mostly variations of the two-step and all the accompanying turns and dips and spins — and laughing and generally having a good time — and making me smile with their good dancing to the great music. He clearly knew what he was doing (and so did she).
The sweet little thing went away (I didn’t see where) — I was watching all this — and then the next song started and I was bouncing along to the music and the guy reach up to the riser where I was standing and took my hand, and “invited” me down to the floor. Me sorta protesting and him ignoring me (I was wearing running shoes and my feet hurt). I’m telling you, this guy could DANCE — and so can I. He was a strong leader. Geeze it was fun. I laughed and laughed.
And then I went back to the riser, the sweet little thing reappeared, and they danced 4-5 more songs and disappeared. I’d forgotten how much I love to dance (how in the hell do you forget that?). And it didn’t hurt that this guy was probably 40, great looking, and had a great body (under baggy, shapeless clothes). But it also didn’t matter — if a butt ugly, old, short, fat guy could dance that well, he’d be dancing all night with whom ever he wanted to.
I don’t know why men don’t dance — but they’re missing the boat. It is absolutely the never-fail pick-up for every occasion. Every woman in that bar — and there were a lot — wanted to dance. But it works everywhere — this was not a bar with a dance floor. There was no dance floor. Just a guy grabbing a girl’s hand as she walked buy and spinning her around and then launching into dance steps. In the aisle. This would work at a company dinner, a wedding reception, and a supermarket aside. Anywhere there is music — and you could sing/humm if you needed it. It is the all purpose, always acceptable, always EFFECTIVE, always correct pick-up “line”.
And the other great thing about this guy was that he was totally enjoying himself and he didn’t much care who he danced with. And really, men, if you could totally charm everybody in the room and have loads of fun is it absolutely necessary that very dance partner be 25 and hot? No. It is not. (If you’re a good dancer and you can find another good dancer, you can forgive other minor flaws. It’s like playing blackjack with somebody else who understands the game and how to play it.) Great dancers get their pick of everybody.
After running the Disneyland Half Marathon yesterday — poorly — I did not run Conquer the Bridge today. I went over early and took pictures of the half marathoners (10) starting at 6:30. Then waited for the 5.3 milers to start. And then I went home. Ha! And slept. And then spent the afternoon at the JCC pool with the Wilk Prince and Princesses.