Their Own Drummer

The meditation music flowed harmoniously as the Aussies took the stage. It was the perfect winding down. The sun sinking slowly towards the harbor while the cool evening breeze encouraged the warmth of another’s touch, or maybe even a sweater. We stopped to watch the band. We were awed by the didgeridoo. The band played on and did what they did best.

As per usual, I scanned the crowd that had gathered in front. And that's when the performance really became alive.

Stage Left :
Birkenstocks placed carefully to the right, sitting on her knees. Some sort of a coat or blanket protected the bare legs that poked out from under her patchwork skirt. Her arms found some sort of rhythm. She moved, from the waist up, to the beat of her own drummer. The gestures were large and sporadic, the movement less than flowy. This girl was obviously in a world of her own.

Stage Right:
His long scruffy hair was in a low pony tail. The look of that made his beard a little more bushy. His shirt was long, a pull over shirt with a low neckline and strings. The thin beige cotton flowed to the loose cotton pants he was wearing, also in beige. The look was straight out of the late 1960s. His dance flowed like the clothes he was wearing. His movements large, but flowing one to the next. His dance was a combination of yoga and tai-chi.

Stage Right and slightly behind:
Hello, the 80s called. They were wondering where you went. Gray shirt, light denim jeans. hair long, but short. Curly. Greasy. In need of both of a cut and a wash. He taps his feet. And then, he spots her. The dancing girl at Stage Left. He points her out to dancing boy. With a little coaxing, he gets him to dance over to her. The spotlight is now his.

While dancing boy is talking to dancing girl, dancing greaseball is busting a move entirely of his own. 1980s Michael Jackson style. Complete with grabbing of crotch. Busting a move, spinning, twirling, jerky movement combined with an "I think I’m sexy" attitude.

Back to Stage Right:
Dancing girl won't leave her place on the ground. She rejects the chance to dance it up with dancing boy. By this time I'm convinced she only moves from the waist up. Holy crap though, did she ever give someone a lesson on dancing on the floor.

Dancing boy returns to stage left, unphased, still dancing. 1980s MJ wannabe twirls, spins and busts a move. Girl continues dancing on the ground. I walk away as the band plays on.