I like to think that I can cut a rug on the dance floor. I usually get this thought after having myself a drink or two, and it’s a pretty safe bet that I’m not the only one. My worst experience that I have had on the dance floor has happened only recently.
I had just started a new bar job and after we had closed down on a busy Saturday night, we all stuck around to have some drinks. One turned into a few, an hour turned in 6 and the music turned into karaoke and dancing. At some point in the early morning hours most of the staff had made the sane decision to leave. My boss and I however, along with a couple of other staff stuck it out.
At some stage of the night we had decided the small area in front of the bar could be made bigger by moving the furniture to create a bigger dance floor. No one knows how much we had to drink, suffice to say, it was too much. I decided to bust out a few dance moves, one of which was The Worm.
Apparently (because I have had to rely on witness accounts), my chin made severe contact with the hardwood floor, yet I continued to try to worm. I noticed the sun was coming up, so we all left the bar in the dance floor state and went home. I crashed on the couch.
When I woke up, I found I had a bruised chin, elbows, knees, my right hip and I’d split my pants from my crotch to my knee. No one had told me this. I’d caught public transport home, in front God only knows who. I have since retired from ever performing the worm again.