You’re still glowin’, you’re still crowin’

Photo by: Elizabeth Otaola
Photo by: Elizabeth Otaola

It wasn’t much of a feeling but more of an expectation. The expectation of arriving to a place and then feeling you are not meant to be there. The expectation of having a certain experience but then coming into an unexpected reality. That was my weekend in advance. I previewed something that was at odds with myself.

It was Sunday afternoon and I got ready to go to a music festival. I was one of the few attending that was ignorant of the DJs performing – I suspected most people attending knew exactly what they were getting themselves into. I did not.

IMG_2188

I was invited by my very close friend Patricia and her boyfriend. I love them both but I was basically 3th wheeling it. Great. I chose not to let that get to me. I also knew that one of the attendees was an acquaintance of mine – let’s call him “Norway” for now – whom was going with 10 of his closest northern European friends. Norway was surprised to hear I was going to the festival. “It’s a European thing” he said; “You Latin girls don’t dance to this music.” Oh baby don’t you know that us Latin girls dance to any music?

I have to say however, the crowd was very different with what you would find in a Latin party, even an upscale Latin party. A sea of man buns, frosted tips, Scandinavian blond hair, beautiful tall men with shaved legs, girls with blue lipstick, thin but no curves. Everyone wearing sneakers and drinking beer. I don’t like beer.

We. Had. An. Epic. Time.

IMG_2265

The sun was shining and the music shook the floor while we pumped our fists from 5pm to 10pm. When the sun stopped shining the colored lights lit up the crowd. We jumped. People asked me if I was “on” something. I had half a beer and gum. My friend responded we were “high on life,” which sounds so incredibly cheesy but we were. Norway playfully mentioned I shouldn’t move my hips because Europeans don’t dance like that (and it is European music). I said “darling, if the beat allows it, I will move my hips.”

We stuck out. Strangers pointed out that we looked like Latinas (they said “but it’s a good thing”). Not sure what about our looks gave it away quite honestly. Maybe not our look, but our stride. We realized having a good time depends solely on you and the company you keep. The attitude you bring to the dance floor.

We kept dancing. Wait for the drop. Wait for the drop; and we clapped our hands as part of the electrified crowd.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.