Senior Sock-Hop

I went to my first sock-hop for seniors. I'm not kidding. The dance was held in a gymnasium, during the day, and I sat in the drag line of single women. At first, every time a man approached us, my inner teen jumped up, waved her arms, and shouted, "Pick me! Pick me!" Was it counterproductive not to make eye contact? I'd never seen so many men who needed to put in their teeth and take off their bad rugs. Eventually I danced with the handsomest one. His full head of wavy reddish blond hair was obviously authentic. Dressed in a stylish grey suit, he also smelled divine. I couldn't understand a word that he babbled through a thick accent, speech impediment, and possibly senility. Still, the experience did not duplicate high school dances entirely. Many couples flew around the floor. Everyone smiled and chatted, men and women mingling, meeting, socializing, and exercising. It was all it was supposed to be without the adolescent angst. [creative nonfiction]

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