12 Days

Inside, the décor definitely convinced me that the ideal clientele of the establishment were those of the `shit-kicker’ variety. Country music poured out of the doors, most people wore cowboy boots and there was more flannel and polyester here than one could find at Walmart.

“Charlie, I’m not sure-.”

“Just a couple dances. I got into it a few years ago. I think you’ll like it.” He said, pulling me to the bar and ordering us some beers. He dragged me to the edge of the dance floor where people were spinning, kicking and stepping to the music in sync.

“I can’t do that.” I promised.

“It helps if you’re a bit drunk.” He said, but I didn’t feel confident and I was pretty sure I was still buzzed. The song changed and he smiled. “This is an easy one. You can do this.”

He pulled me onto the floor and made me watch his feet as he began to dance. It was pretty simple and by the time the song ended I had gotten the hang of it and was actually having fun. I figured I’d give it another dance or two and then make him take me home.

They bar closed four hours later after I had stripped down to my t-shirt and stolen a hat from some large woman named Cindy. Charlie helped guide me as we made our way to the truck. I was wasted and I knew it but I also realized I hadn’t had that much fun in years. I actually giggled as I climbed onto the passenger seat and Charlie chuckled at my state.