pump it up, a little more...get your body goin' on the dance floor
But really, it was just so much fun. My host sister, Rosa, had some great music and everyone just wanted to dance. Surprisingly, she had a CD filled with early 90s music. (I need to pay a visit to my bootlegger in Santa Rosa pronto!) When ‘Pump up the Jam’ came up, ghetto k made her appearance and danced like a crazy girl. And suddenly I was in 5th grade again at my first dance. Cognitive dissonance. Fo’sho…
And I didn’t have to dance with any drunks (or Evers) because the locos wanted to dance with me. It’s fun dancing with kids because you can make an ass out of yourself, but because people just think that you are trying to get the kids involved and have fun with them. Not a bad thing for a youth development volunteer.
Their party ended at midnight and Rosa invited me to come with her to another party which sounded like a great idea at the time because I was so high from the 90s music and still wanted to dance. But the walk to the party killed me. It was pitch black and we had to walk though a coffee field uphill to get to the house. Because I’m a semi-shortie, I rocked some platform sandals, which were fine for dancing, but for walking in a muddy, rocky coffee field…not so much. My feet were killing by the time we got to the other party. I danced to three punta songs (with success, hooray!) and when the romántica started, I booked. (No straight up hug dancing for me, especially since I was super sweaty from dancing…gross.) I found the locos and asked them to take me home. If going uphill was difficult, going downhill was a nightmare. I was tempted to take off my shoes but walking barefoot sounded like an invitation for ringworm (no thanks). Luis helped me down the hill and piggy backed me for some parts (he’s a team player like that). We got back to my house around 2. My feet were in excruciating pain. The price I pay to be taller.