Driven to dance

The end of term staff party was quite the doozy, or shall I say "boozy"? It started out with drinks at the director's house: wine (Argentinian and Chilean), beer, gin & tonics and non-alcoholic stuff too. After two hours of downing the juice and putting a spin on things it was time to walk over to the restaurant across the street for some food in our bellies. Isn't that supposed to come before the drinking.

Of course more pitchers of beer adorned the table and were frequently emptied and replaced with topped up jugs. I stuck to bottle water because the two glasses of wine were plenty for me.

After the meal came the karaoke and the dancing. Dancing!? Yes, good ol Cambodian style dancing of twirling the hands and walking in circles with some sort of a rhythm. It was great when it was the group thing, then it started becoming a couples thing. And who do you think asked me to dance? The driver.

This is the same guy who puts my life at peril three days a week. No one else who rides with him has the same reaction. But it always seems that the near misses only happen when I'm in the car. And then to add insult to injury, we often come screaming into the school parking lot just slam on the breaks. The driver seems to get a kick out of watching the students fly out of harms way. One of these days his breaks are going to go out and when he plows into the front office it won't be so funny anymore. I'm thankful for the seatbelt that works because someday, it'll save my life in his car.

So, all that to say, I always thought he had it in for me since his erradic driving seemed aimed at gaining pleasure from my fright. I was extremely surprised when he kept asking me to dance. Nobody else he wanted. There was even an attempt at a western slow dance. Oh well. I guess it's nice to be asked to dance even if it is by a desperate driver.