Chaos goes country

Last night we started out by going to a place called Rocky Flats, which is right across from where all the nuclear waste was dumped years ago. It's a classic dive bar in the middle of nowhere. A place to go when you are looking to enjoy the general awkwardness of it all. With a crew who revels in the idea of awkward to the point where it's comfortable, you can go just about anywhere and light up the place. We went to the back, grabbed a seat in the metal folding chairs, and ordered fried fish and cole slaw, accompanied with pitchers of Wisconsin beer, followed by owning the jukebox with Allman Brothers, John Prine and Janis Joplin. It was fabulous. It felt like Lobsterfest on a much smaller scale, minus the spilt wine and live music. And now that I have figured out this picture thing, you can take a peek at our little crew of dive bar fanatics...



We then decided to head to The Grizzly Rose in Denver. What an AMAZing idea that turned out to be.

I did something I thought I would never do...

I line danced.

And I loved it.

I felt slightly out of place in my polka dotted shirt and argile sneakers, but I will be better prepared next time. And I can't wait for that next time.

The place was huge, and filled with cowboys and cowgirls of all ages. The dance floor was filled with the line dancers in the middle, and the two-steppers circling the outside. There is something just fabulous about being in step with 20 other people to a man with a mustache belting out over his twangy guitar chords. I took to following one girl who seemed to have it down, but kept it simple. She noticed me watching her and tripping over my own feet and spinning in circles to keep up with the hops and shuffles that were coming too fast for my east coast, booty shaking tendencies. She laughed and started counting off for me, and soon enough, I found myself falling into step behind her, and feeling like I was ready to shove thumbs into belt loops and start throwin some hips into it.

We also ventured over to the mechanical bull, where I eagerly took the lead and jumped up on it...only to be thrown back off it shortly after. But hey, I went gracefully.

Riiight.

I guess this is what happens when you hang with Oklahoma and Louisiana in Colorado.



I was then coerced into learning two-step...which sounds simple right? Two steps, then one, then two. Well, I've never been that great with numbers, and something wasn't adding up for me and equaled out to me stepping all over Micah's feet. Eventually I just hopped on and he took me for a ride around the floor. It could have been the height, the large steps, or simply my inability to count, dance, and laugh at the same time. But "gliding" was not in my understanding last night.



So now I have found a new challenge. I shall find some cowboy boots, perhaps a hat, and start throwing some style down in the line.

Yea. I'll keep ya posted on that one.