In case you now wonder what on earth I'm talking about here – I was being a very good girlfriend last night. So good that after buying Turkish Delight on the market this morning, I was promptly dubbed a German Delight.
When meeting someone new, you not only meet a new person but also a whole new life with an array of friends, habits, and hobbies. Have I mentioned that I don't have hobbies? And happily so, but apparently I am an exception in this world. Though I might be an exception with no hobbies, I'm also someone who is at least for the time being trying to please the new man on her side, which brought me to Brackenfell last night.
The new man likes to dance and though I'm spared the Salsa moves, in the search for Sokkie we ended up deep in Afrikaner land where people don't speak the same language as I do and I can't even sing along to the songs.
After me sitting quietly in the car for 40 minutes, praying that we may stay lost forever and just drive around aimlessly for the rest of the night, I found myself in a dancehall. That's what it is called and there is no other way to describe it. Make a time warp and picture a dancehall. A big dance floor in the middle, tables and chairs on the side, pictures of Elvis on the wall, bar in the back room, smoking allowed.
I thought I came prepared and only realized then and there that I have had no clue. Though I am not a complete rookie and didn't attempt to even ask for a Cuba Libre instead ordering a brandy & coke just as Thekla taught me. When in Rome.... The first sip immediately took me back to 1995. Every Friday we would order entire trays of 'whiskey cola' at Metro as they were on special for DM 1. Or maybe DM 2. Either way dead cheap and thus even more delicious for poor students.
After that first sip it was easy. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow and enjoy the ride back in time. A time when people line up on the dance floor and dance a routine, because after all Johanna and I would do the same back in the day when the Backstreet Boys were still socially acceptable. A time when girls like to channel Britney Spears and wear dresses that you would consider a t-shirt once you are in your thirties, and a time when it is perfectly agreeable to walk like an Egyptian in an attempt to shake things up.
Then there was the actual dancing and I guess the torturous months of Tanzschule back in the day did pay off after all. Though by far no expert, I managed to not fall or slip and was even twirled quite expertly a few times. All in all a perfectly enjoyable evening outside my comfort zone.
The only thing that would have made it any more enjoyable would have been a certain girlfriend on my side. For the moments in between the dancing when I wanted to sit back with yet another brandy & coke and watch. For the moments of delicious gossip when I wanted to stare incredulously at the white pleather loafers. For the moments when I wanted to turn to my friend and say: “I wonder what good old Herve would have said to see knock-offs of his creations worn by the Brackenfell youth.” And this person would have laughed and known exactly who and what I meant.
...My friend, you know who you are and I will take you on this travel when I see you in a few weeks!