Tuesday, 4/22/97 Laying down dance-floor law Annoying habits of
fellow partygoers can ruin rhythm of night out
Though it would seem unwise to endorse the actions of Martin
Lawrence these days, since his behavior in the Valley and towards
his castmates is increasingly … unhinged, I must say one of his
recent exploits struck quite the chord with me as I surveyed the
morning paper a month or so ago. Sources reported that Martin
allegedly slugged somebody in the face while dancing at a popular
L.A. nightclub. The whys and wherefores were left out of the story.
Martin supposedly just hit the guy. In the last few years, I’ve
found myself the veteran of many a dance floor, and one thing I can
attest to is there are many times when I’ve wanted to throw a fist
in the face of some lout with no appreciation for dance floor
ethics; someone who commits the unpardonable sin of making one of
life’s joys into a less than satisfying endeavor. Until I hear
further, I’m ready to give Martin the benefit of the doubt and
presume the guilt of the slugged individual. And if you’re
wondering exactly what I’m mean by guilt, I’ll lay all that out for
you in a bit. My love for cutting the rug is a rather recent,
rather unusual development of my grad school years. I’ve always
been proficient when it came to shaking it, I never shied from it
at dances in high school, but dancing was something I could take or
leave. My favorite things were fairly sedentary acts, like reading
or watching movies. Throughout my undergraduate career, I avoided
dancing and eschewed all nightclubs because I had more nobler
pursuits to attend to, that meant reading some American classic or
checking out a filmmaker whose work intrigued me. But man does not
live by art alone. And it was during my first year in graduate
school that I began going to clubs, first dragged reluctantly by
friends, later going on my own, because I rediscovered how
soul-nurturing boogying is. It’s no coincidence that I was between
paramours at the time I made this rediscovery; I quickly found out
that a night on the dance floor is the best sex substitute (perhaps
supplement is a more proper summation) than anything else. Because,
like The Act, dancing is a physical thing, about setting the body
free to do what it wants. It’s also about shutting down the brain
and allowing the rhythm of the music and the rhythm inside you to
take you wherever it may. Basically it’s a Zen kind of thing, a way
to escape yourself for a while and just be. Sounds perfect, doesn’t
it? But like all things on Earth, there are drawbacks. And those
drawbacks have everything to do with certain other people who don’t
realize the dance floor is a sacrosanct space with certain rules to
be abided by to ensure everyone’s enjoyment. And while I’m at it,
allow me this moment to use this Beast that is the Media for my own
ends. I will lay down the definitive list of dancing crimes and
misdemeanors, and if somehow someone out there should read these
words and glean wisdom or insight from them, then my work will not
have been in vain: 1. Predators: I can’t tell you what a drag these
guys (and yes, it’s almost always a heterosexual man who is your
dance-floor criminal) are and how much they rob the space of its
positive vibe. Don’t get me wrong, there is most certainly a sexual
component to what makes dancing so damn much fun, and part of that
component, besides the simple pleasure in rhythmically moving the
body, is being surrounded by beautiful babies and (discreetly)
watching them. But typically you see packs of straight boys roaming
the dance floor, their intentions practically written across their
beady, roving eyes: GET LAID. It’s no wonder this approach rarely
reaps fruit. They spot their targets and move in, sometimes
circling the hapless prey, then move in performing the most
distasteful series of gyrations, pelvic thrusts, and other sex-like
arrhythmic movements. Fellas, this foolishness doesn’t work. It
simply dampens the pleasure of the beautiful baby you meant to
attract, and more than likely, you’ll send her running, not to
mention adding to that negative air of predatoriness that is the
drawback of most clubs catering to or featuring heterosexuals. If
you just dance, and dance well, and combine this with a bit of
light flirting, you’ll do more to entice that beautiful baby
towards you, rather than surrounding her like a pack of wild dogs
trying to bring down a wallabee. 2. Gawkers: essentially an
off-shoot of predators, but this includes people who stand around
on the dance floor staring at girls or at the near-naked go-go
dancers that some places employ. If you’re not going to dance, get
the hell off the dance floor! You’re taking up valuable space us
groovers need to be happy. You can gawk and stare from the edge of
the floor just as easily. 3. Spatial Idiots: this means those
dancing fools who forget (or don’t care) that they must share the
space with others, and that they can’t have it all to themselves.
Nothing can produce rage quicker than having some sweaty degenerate
constantly bumping into you and leaving traces of their foul
perspiration on your glad rags. 4. Users: being those people who
think it’s all right to dance holding a drink and/or a burning
cigarette. These folks need a reprimand. Consuming your drink at a
bar or table will ensure that it doesn’t end up on the dance floor
… literally, on the dance floor, making the floor slippery or
sticky or – worse yet – leaving a glass for some romper stomper to
shatter (all of which contributes to that nasty feeling of dancing
in an alley). And if I had a dollar every time I got burned on the
hand by some feeb’s cigarette, I would open my own club where these
rules of conduct would be strictly enforced. If, by this point, it
appears that dancing is more trouble than it’s worth, you assume
incorrectly. Despite all the negatives a nightclub has to offer, a
good night of dancing is still one of those simple pleasures that
makes life worth tolerating. As if to prove how important dancing
is, notice how important a good dance scene is to a film; this
doesn’t include musicals (a genre which I loathe) – I mean regular
films where at some point the characters burst into dance. Imagine
"Pulp Fiction" without the Jack Rabbit Slim’s Twist Contest Scene,
or look at the films of Jean-Luc Godard, Bernardo Bertolucci, Hal
Hartley or Fellini as proof of how a well-placed dance scene can
convey loads about a character or situation without resorting to
words. When Bertolucci was here last fall, he said dance was
important because for one moment, it sets the characters free.
Dancing does just that for those of us in real life. And while
letting the body take over can also result in one’s hostilities
finding expression that much quicker, Martin and I will try and
restrain ourselves if you offenders cut the bullshit and just shake
your groove thing, without interfering with anyone else’s groove.
Then, we’ll all get along just fine. Though Brandon Wilson spends
his days chained to sound editing gadgetry as a third-year
directing student, he still makes time to grace the more choice
dance floors all over town. There are many times when I’ve wanted
to throw a fist (at) some lout with no appreciation for dance floor
ethics. If you just dance … you’ll do more to entice that
beautiful baby.