Derek J. Barbee
4/30/01

          I just went to the first dance I've been to since 7th Grade. In general, I haven't been the type who would go to all the dances, mostly because I never really felt I had a reason to. I know that sounds weird, but it's because the person I was involved with couldn't go to the dances, so it wasn't much fun for me to go.

          This year, Prom was coming up, and (surprise!) I wasn't planning on going to it. In fact, I was rather enjoying shocking people by telling them I wasn't going. Everyone would ask you if you were going as though they already knew the answer, and I actually got amazed looks and open mouths when I happily announced that I wasn't.

          Unfortunately, my fun ended, in the form of Sophomores.

          Each grade in our High School votes for who they want to be Prom King and Queen, Prince and Princess, Peasant and Wench, etc. Each grade nominates two guys and two girls, and then there's a second elimination process that's schoolwide. I was walking back from our class meeting when Adrienne hit me like a bouncy whirlwind.

          "Guess what, Derek? Guess what?"

          "What?" I asked inevitably, picking myself up off the floor.

          "The Sophomore Class nominated you for Prom Prince! Oh, and your name made it up for voting in the Freshmen class, too!" she said, grinning widely.

          That made me blink. I was still thinking about that one when Adrienne dashed off to jump on Darren. I walked to my next class real slow, and met up with Josh on the way, who asked why my face looked the way it did.

          "I just found out that the Sophomore Class nominated me for Prom Prince," I said, still rather stunned.

          Josh was more stunned. "You?"

          "Yeah, I know!" I exclaimed. "I've been trying to figure out who in that grade knows me, much less likes me!"

          But nevertheless, I was nominated. I told a couple more people, and when I told Frank, he started laughing. I asked him rather suspiciously what was so funny, and he told me: "Well, now you have to go to Prom!"

          Bummer.

          Well, I didn't make the final round elimination, but I went anyway. This involved renting a tux, which turned out to be a much bigger deal than it first appeared. Guys shopping for clothing generally doesn't take that long. I don't like to generalize or stereotype, but it's most often true.

          "Hey, you think this looks cool?"

          "Yeah."

          "Cool. I'm getting it."

          Cha-ching, to the register, just like that. Renting a tux turned out to be a different matter.

          In the Mall, there was a little spot on the corner of an isle, practically in the middle of Macy's. Just this dinky little spot with the words: Gary's Tux Shop over it, looking very out of place next to the little kiddie clothes and backpacks, which were right across the isle from it. My dad and I went there about a week before the Prom itself, which we had been told was a good idea.

          A short lady in a rather classy looking trenchcoat (yes, such a thing does exist) came up to help us rather quickly. My dad explained that we were looking to rent a tuxedo (for me, not for him, he had to explain) for Prom. The lady nodded, and brought out something that looked like an oversized restaurant menu, but turned out to be pictures of all the tuxedos they had. My dad and I flipped through it, and my mentality changed from not really caring to not wanting to wear anything that ugly.

          "What the hell are those?" I almost said as my dad turned the page.

          "Oo, pinstripes," he said.

          We finally decided on one outfit that didn't look terribly goofy, and called the lady back over. I had some futile idea (hope?) in my head that that would be all there was to it. Instead the lady hit me with a stream of questions.

          "What kind of cufflinks do you want? Are you going to want a boutonniere? Will you be renting shoes? What color do you want your undershirt to be? What pattern? What color is your date's dress going to be?"

          I quickly switched in to smooth-buyer mode and adopted a thoughtful expression. I tilted my head and shifted my weight to one foot, pausing as if in deep thought. I opened my mouth, closed it, and then said in a confident voice:

          "Huh?"

          The lady held a strained smile, obviously going through anger management lines in her head. She repeated her previous statement in pieces, and I managed to struggle through each different option or accessory. Some of the conversation went like this:

          "Are you going to want a boutonniere?"

          "What the doink is that?"

          "I'll take that as a no. What color is your date's dress going to be?"

          "Hahahahahaha. My what?"

          My dad finally intervened, knowing a couple more things than I did. I was relieved to let him help out, and we finally made it through most of the options.

          "Will you be wanting to rent shoes?" the lady asked, gesturing to the wall behind the counter, where several pairs of black shoes rested, looking as though they had been dipped in plastic. I grimaced and shook my head, deciding to use the nice soft black ones my dad had at home.

          We finally decided on something suitable, and the lady said she needed to take my measurements. I shrugged and said all right, leaving my book with my dad and following her into the dressing rooms, which were hidden in the wall. I guess the place was bigger than it first appeared, because there were a bunch of rooms back there. The lady asked me to take off my sweater, and got some measuring tape. Feeling a bit like a piece of concrete at a building site, I stayed still while she measured me in every way possible. It was almost amusing, because she was a good foot shorter than me, so she was practically crawling all over me.

          She finally finished, and we paid then, rather than when we'd have to come in and get it, to avoid hassle. It turned out to be better that way, so two days from Prom, I came in, tried it out, then took it home, stashing it in the trunk of the car like a smuggled refugee.

          The day of the Prom, I wasn't in much of a hurry. It started at 8:00, so I planned to get there at 8:30 or so. Looking up at the clock, which said 7:30, I supposed that I should get ready. Shouldn't take that long, or so I though.

          Heh. Right.

          I grabbed the huge package and went to try it out. First challenge was separating everything, and finding out what everything was. The pants were folded up so much that I thought they were a vest, or something. The suspenders could have either been a belt or a whip, neither of which I particularly pictured went with Prom (Well, depends on who my date was, I suppose). The cufflinks came in a sealed plastic baggie like crime scene evidence.

          There were two or three things which went on the chest, and I wondered why they just didn't save time and combine them all into one article of clothing. Seeing as how the designers had not the wisdom to do that yet, I struggled through one item after the other, finding buckles and straps and clips and buttons in the most unusual places. I stopped halfway through and looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, giving myself some words of encouragement.

          "Spiffy. I look like the guy from American Psycho."

          The pants reminded me of al-dente noodles: soft and fuzzy on the outside, and tough on the inside. After a while, they would get to be uncomfortable, I realized, but for now, I enjoyed wearing fuzzy pants. I could probably be one of those people in the stuffed animal suits at ball games and amusement parks if I didn't hate little kids so much.

          Then I met my worst nemesis. The bow tie.

          I chuckled as I saw it, not alarmed at all, to begin with. I had worn one before, for my Halloween costume (I was a Vampiric Chippendale Dancer). It hadn't been that bad.

          It turns out that I had been wearing it wrong before. The correct way to wear it was extremely irritating to the neck. It was also impossible to wear it comfortably with the starched white collar that you could probably cut bread with.

          Looking at my watch while I fiddled with it, I realized that this was taking a lot longer than I had originally thought it would.

          About this time, my parents came up and let me in on the fact that I was wearing the collar and bow tie wrong. It was way too comfortable to be anywhere near correct. My dad had worn bow ties and funky collars before, so he tried to figure it out, only bringing me close to asphyxiation twice. My mom was looking at pictures in yearbooks to see how other guys wore them correctly, and kept giving my dad ideas of how to make it feel even more uncomfortable. By then, I had finally had enough.

          "Okay, okay! Stop! Here is where I draw the line between comfort and fashion!"

          Before their horrified eyes, I loosened the collar on the bow tie so it was actually comfortable. I would have liked for that to be the end, but then we had to put on the cufflinks. We lost them first, spent a few minutes looking for them, then found them again and put them on.

          Even before tonight, I knew that I wanted to do something original for this. Whenever there's a big event with everybody dressed the same, I always want to wear something that totally sets me apart from everybody else. I think I'm going to wrap chains around my robes when I graduate, just for the look.

          There was this really cool silver, clip-on earring that I had used for a gothic costume I wore at Halloween two years back, and I realized that that might be an interesting addition to a tux. It's a small triangle that dangles from an upper clip-on piece, and looks kind of intriguing and foreign. I went and got it, trying it in front of the mirror. Cool. Okay, ready to roll.

          I went out to the living room to put on my shoes, and my mom saw the earring. This strange look crossed her face, somewhere between reluctance and nervousness. I smiled inwardly, having known that this was coming. I kind of like challenging my parents with clothing and personal appearance. One of these days, I'm going to dye my hair, and I know my dad won't like it, thinking it's a "punk" thing. Then I'd get to argue that just dying your hair isn't going to change what kind of person you are. I'm not going to become a Nazi because I have blue hair. For some reason, I like having those discussions.

          "Are you really going to wear that earring?" she asked, as transparent as glass.

          I smiled disarmingly, avoiding the comment that it would be rather odd for me to put it on for five minutes and then take it off before going to the dance. Instead of saying that, I answered: "Yes. Why?"

          She hesitated, the uncomfortable look never leaving her face as I continued tying my shoes. "Well . . . I just don't think that's a look that you want to have . . ."

          Amused by her inability to say exactly what bothered her, I pushed it further as I stood up. "How so? What look do you think it gives me?"

          Hesitating even more, she finally said: "Well, it makes you look like a homosexual."

          "Huh?"

          Oh all the the things that she could have said right then, that was probably the one that I was least expecting, and threw me for the biggest loop. "How the doink do you get homosexual out of an earring?!?" I asked.

          "Time to go," says Dad, looking at his watch.

          "Look, you can wear it if you want," she says, and I'm looking at her closely to see if she's joking. "But it makes you look like a homosexual."

          Okay. Now, I have nothing against homosexuals. On the contrary, I support them in their opinions, as they have a right to make their own decisions and have their own preferences. I'd be mighty pissed if someone came up to me and said: "Hey, you aren't allowed to like tofu. It's just not right." Well, maybe I wouldn't be that pissed, because I don't like tofu, but it's just a hypothetical situation.

          As I was saying, I support Gay Rights, but am not gay myself. The idea of people believing that I am gay makes me . . . uncomfortable.

          Still not understanding why, I sigh and drop the earring on the table on the way out the door. I give my mom the hairy eyeball as I leave, wondering if this is some new parent psychology trick to get kids to do what you tell them.

          I wandered in the front doors of the building, nodding to the group of teachers waiting at the front door. One of them checked a list to see if I paid already or not, then said that I could go in. I waved and entered through the streamers into the dance room. There were lights shining on a rotating disco ball, and literally hundreds of colored balloons with streamers and other decorations around the place. Glass doors led out to a patio with strings of lights creating a glowing little enclosure outside in the night air. In the center of the room was a small gazebo type thing, with a small raised platform, white pillars and ivy hanging over it. A fog machine by the side of the room attracted attention to the stage, as moving lights flash through it. The DJ was up there, putting off some impressive sounds and lights. There were several refreshment tables along the walls, and . . .

          Eight people.

          "Woo hoo!" I hollered at the top of my lungs. "Party!"

          A group of three girls wandered over, glad to see a new arrival. As they got closer and I stopped staring at what they were wearing, I realized that it was Emily, Monica and Adrienne. Greetings were passed around, and then there was a lull in the conversation.

          I looked around the room, trying to identify the other people. "So . . . this is it?"

          "Oh, nobody really shows up until 9:00," said Emily.

          "How long have you been here?" I asked them, looking back and forth from them.

          "Since 8:00," said Monica. "We stopped by McDonalds first."

          I stared at her dress and blinked in the flashing lights. "Wearing that?"

          "Yup."

          We talked a bit more, and then I shuffled over to another person I recognized. Aaron stood by the wall, bouncing a little bit to the music, watching the DJ. "Nice tux," he said as I came over.

          I laughed when I saw that with his nice tuxedo he was wearing his Punk Style Studded Belt. He was already missing his jacket, and I spotted it on a nearby chair. "Get hot already?" I asked, nodding to his jacket.

          "Oh, nah," he said. "I just don't like it. It's huge, and makes me look like the guy from the Talking Heads."

          "I see."

          We commented on the DJ and the fog machine for a bit, and I realized that it might be kind of funny if the smoke detector went off. We both bobbed our heads wordlessly in time with the music for a bit longer, and then I shuffled off, looking around at new arrivals.

          More people began to filter in as time went on, and I was repeatedly surprised by certain people's dates. I hadn't known that some of the people that showed up with dates were in relationships. Heh. Well, maybe they weren't.

          The next room over was were photos were being taken, and I went in to get blinded by the flash several times and talk to some people. Jenny showed up, and soon Josh and Crystal came in the door. Fighting down the pissed off butterflies in my stomach, I went over to talk to them for a bit. After I realized that I still hated her, I drifted around the room again.

          About then, Nate showed up, and I had to laugh. He was wearing a complete gangster outfit from the 20's or 30's, right down to the chains and the wide-brimmed hat cocked at an angle. I went over to greet him, glad to have somebody else to talk to. Frank showed up a bit later, wearing the suit he had been telling everyone about for weeks. It was a slick burgundy tuxedo, with suede shoes.

          Some brave and adventurous souls had decided to be the first to start dancing, and there was about 5 people up on the gazebo. I dashed over and joined in the growing party. Christina was up there, Adrienne was gyrating all over the place, and Jamison was attempting to dance, with the ugliest hair I have seen in a long time. It looked like dead, greased seaweed. I dragged my attention away from his hair and concentrated on dancing.

          Garrett showed up in a perfect ice cream white tuxedo, with a turquoise undershirt, white gloves and a cane. He looked like he belonged in a ball room or an old posh movie.

          More and more people began showing up as time when by, and the number of people dancing grew rapidly. This was the first time that I fully realized just how much I enjoyed dancing. Being a drummer, I can stay on the beat, and enjoy listening to that part of the music, which is more noticeable in Dance Music. There's just something fun about moving all around to music you enjoy listening to. Plus you get to shake your rear and it's okay, which is cool.

          Aaron, Frank and I got down to some serious dancing, getting totally, undescribably funky in our dance moves. We mixed everything from old style spins to techno grooves to rave movements. I have never had so much fun dancing before.

          The room was pretty much thick with people now, and every now and then I shift around the room to a new spot, saying hello to different people as I danced. Richard was poledancing with one of the pillars that held up the gazebo in the center of the room, and Alina and Frank were doing dirty dancing, which was hella funny. I passed by Alex, who was standing there moving his head to the music, and said hello.

          "Hey, why aren't you dancing?"

          He shrugged. "I'm not that great of a dancer."

          "Well, that's okay. Neither is anybody else here. We're all faking it. All you gotta do is move your body."

          Alex thought about this for a moment, then started shaking himself like a dog and twitching all over the place. I cheered him on and a couple of other people did, too, laughing as he twitched around in circles and almost ran into one of the the gazebo pillars.

          The dancing continued, and more people showed up, including Mandy, Colin, Carli, Hannah, my sister, and a bunch of others. The DJ played dance remixes of a bunch of songs I knew, and a bunch that I didn't but everyone else seemed to. Who knows? Maybe they were faking it, too.

          The dance music stopped, and the DJ put on a slow song for a slow dance. Thankful for the break, I walked over to one of the refreshment tables and got a cup of ice water, watching as the people out on the dance floor milled around and played Musical Partners, trying to find someone. As watchful as I was, however, I didn't see Adrienne flying at me from the side until she hit me.

          Wham!

          "Aah!"

          I spilled the water all over the floor with the grace of a professional, and found myself being dragged out to the dance floor by one hand. I dimly remembered that she had said a couple of days ago that she was going to dance with me at the Prom. I turned and tossed my now empty cup back to the table, where it rolled off and onto the floor anyway. I turned and let her drag me off.

          Afterwards, she kissed me on the cheek and dashed off into the crowd. I shook my head, smiling, and went off to find where the serious dancing was at. I soon found Aaron and Frank again in a big crowd of people, and we got down again, which was a lot of fun. I remember laughing at the people on Global Groove and all those Dance Parties on MTV, and now didn't think it was quite so stupid, just fun.

          Keith and Calen showed up, and were staring around with expressions of mixed amazement and uncertainty on their faces. I guessed that they hadn't been to many dances before. I went over to talk with them for a while, glad they made it. I wondered if they'd actually hook after this, which might be pretty neat. Calen is one of the most understanding, levelheaded girls I know, and Keith is a really cool, funny guy, but also a Mormon. In today's dating scene, somebody who isn't Mormon but dates a Mormon would have to be very understanding, so I almost hoped they got together. No offense to Mormons intended.

          After a few more songs, they decided to nominate the Prom King, Queen and all that. The Queen got a tiara and the King got a lei to wear around his neck. I remember Jeanette explaining this to me before as a way for the King to be able to say that he got laid on Prom Night. I suppose that works.

          As the tradition for this went, The Queen and the King would be announced, and then they would dance a slow dance together. As it turned out, it was a total tie for who would be the King, so two guys ended up dancing with the Queen, which was amusing, to say the least.

          Later in the evening, in the middle of a particularly funky song, I started hearing screams and yelling over at the front of the dance floor. Looking over past the crowd of people, I saw that Garrett and Jason were stripping to the music. I'd like to say that I was surprised, but I wasn't. Garrett is just that sort of person, and Jason would always join in on something fun. For a moment, I found myself wishing that I'd thought of that first, but then remembered how hard this outfit was to get on, and it would probably be worse to get it off.

          Garrett took off his shirt, twirled it around his head, and threw it off into the crowd. I saw Richard, the weird guy he is, leap and grab in, dashing off into the crowd holding it. Garrett was twirling his cane and spinning in circles while Jason was unbuttoning his shirt slowly. Next to me, Jeanette gave a dollar to Garrett's date so she could go put it in his pants.

          They stopped at the end of the song, and Garrett had to track down Richard, who still had his shirt, somewhere. More funky music was played, and I danced until I got too thirsty, going over to get a drink from the refreshment table. I then remembered the patio, and took my drink to the double doors that led outside, stepping outside.

          The first thing I noticed was the temperature difference. It must have been a good 15- 20 degree difference from inside to outside. The second thing I noticed was that there were two people that I didn't recognize sitting right in front of me, French kissing like mad. I know, you'd think I would have noticed that first, but for some reason I didn't. I blinked about fought down a sudden impulse to do a 180° and go back inside, instead moving uneasily past them. They didn't even look up.

          Moving out to the rest of the patio, I saw Andy and Amanda sitting (he was on the chair, she was on his lap) in one corner of the patio, so I went over to say hi, pulling up a chair. Courtney was also out there. She was a new girl to our school, so she didn't know many people. I struck up a conversation with them, and rediscovered how much I could crack up Andy with anything funny I said.

          Nate came out and tried to get Courtney to dance with him on the last song. She was reluctant to, I doubted she and Nate had ever spoken a word before. Amanda tried to get her to go, too, and I was my helpful self.

          "No, seriously! Dance with him!" said Amanda, twisted herself around in Andy's lap to look at Courtney. Andy looked down, then looked at me with an undescribable expression on his face, which made me bust out laughing.

          "Go ahead!" urged Amanda to the hesitant Courtney. "He's a great guy!"

          "Yeah, he is! He's only an axe murderer on weekends and holidays!" I whispered to Courtney discreetly, giving her an honest smile and a thumbs up.

          Nevertheless, she wouldn't do it, and Nate wandered back inside after a while. This left Amanda no target but me.

          "So why didn't you come with a date?" she asked me accusingly.

          I shrugged, almost spilling my water again. "Eh. I dunno. I was considering bringing that model human skeleton in the Science Lab, but it might be a little difficult when it wanted some refreshments. Plus I doubt the pictures would have come out well. I can just hear my grandma now: 'Oh! Here's Derek's pictures from the prom! Doesn't he look nice! And oh, look! He's dating an anorexic girl!'"

          Andy started laughing, and almost tipped the chair he and Amanda were sitting in backwards, and she yelped as it tilted. He laughed and tilted in again, making her grab onto the table. After she whacked him, she looked back at me again. "What about Mandy? Why didn't you go with her?"

          "Oh, that. Well, I was originally going to, but then I got her pissed at me just long enough for Colin to ask her, so . . . eh." I shrugged again, not really knowing what else to say.

          Inside, the song ended, and we heard the people still on the dance floor applauding the DJ. I clapped from outside, but I doubt anybody heard me. We talked a bit longer, and then I saw Andy look past me as somebody came out the door. Turning my head, I saw that it was Mandy, with a strange look in her eyes and a long piece of tinsel in her hands. Before I could say anything, she wrapped the strand of tinsel around my neck and put her forehead to mine, staring into my eyes.

          "You still owe me a kiss," she said in a low voice, then moved back, leaving the tinsel wrapped about my neck as she walked back inside.

          There was a silence for a moment as I stared back inside, eyes wide.

          "She doesn't looked that pissed with you," said Amanda thoughtfully.

          Andy cracked up the loudest I'd heard him all evening, and almost tipped over the chair again. He laughed even harder when I turned to look at them with the same stunned expression on my face.

          "You said you didn't come with a date? Does she know that she wasn't your date?" Andy asked, still laughing.

          Amanda looked at the tinsel still hanging around my neck. "Where the hell did she get that, anyway?"

          I looked down at it and honestly didn't know.

          "Yeah," said Andy. "For a moment there when she put it around your neck, I thought she was gonna drag you out with it!"

          I stayed out there a moment longer, talking with them, but then I looked up through the doors and saw there was one person left on the dance floor, moving to the strange hokey pokey music that the DJ was playing as an End of the Evening song. No, it wasn't Mandy. It was Nate, a big stupid grin on his face as he danced what looked like the waltz, with nobody in his arms. I couldn't resist, and set my drink down, dashing back inside to start doing the disco, another dance which totally didn't fit with the music.

          The lights were on, and people were filtering out. Nate and I boogied around until the song ended, then both went and got our coats, waltzing over to the exit.

          Well, it was the first Prom I'd ever been to, and hey. I had fun.