Get Footloose - How I found a small town and Footloosed Fancy Free

(Circa - when I was younger)   "ROADTRIP!" 

 I was off on a journey, no not a journey, a mission - yes, I was going to find a small town and go completely "Footloose" on them.

I looked at a map, packed my tights and my dancing shoes and then my mother called. I told her I would see her in a few days and that I was off on a "business trip" to which she replied "What business?"

I hung up because that is what I do and ran outside, got into my car and it stalled and then it stalled again and then I realized I would need a lift to my mission. So I was about to call a friend when my father called (even though I had just spoken to my mother and he was sitting directly across from her having a piece of pecan pie).

"Leeza (has no idea my name is Lisa), what's this your mother tells me you are hitting the road? I'm coming. Do they have good restaurants where you are going?"

"Dad, you're not coming" and then miraculously a thought raced through my head, I could get a lift from my parents and more importantly, they could play the part of my parents and I could play the part of their teenage daughter (not that far fetched) so they can register me in high school in the small town we would be visiting where I was going to go Footloose! So I told my father to pack, grab my mom and head to my house immediately.

They live 14 minutes away so 2 hours later they arrived at my house and I could hear my mother screaming my name from outside. I looked everywhere and couldn't find them or their car, then I called their cell phone but they don't actually ever have it on and then I saw my mother's head sticking out in between parked cars about a block down. I yelled "Pull up in front of my house" to which she replied "There's no parking spots on this street, I don't know why you live here."

So I got in the back seat of their puke brown car with the wind up windows and my mother's nail polish painted on the bumper (where my dad constantly smashed it into the driveway wall). I sat on one of those cushions that people put down at outdoor stadiums so their bum stays warm. Why they have those in their car? I have no idea. Perhaps they give lifts to friends who are harbouring large hemorrhoids.

An hour and a half later (about an hour and a half more than I could handle being in the car with them), we arrived in a small town with no name because this is all made up (are you still reading this?) and checked into a hotel, the only kind my father stayed at, with a free all you can eat continental breakfast, where his first question to the front desk person was, "When is breakfast?" to which the front desk person brilliantly replied "Tomorrow morning sir." 

I took a tour of the town and found the local high school. I then returned to the hotel and dressed up like a teenager (not a far stretch). Then I grabbed my parents and had them rehearse what they were going to say to the Principal about us just moving to town and my needing a school.

The Principal seemed somewhat perplexed by my parents clearly over the age of having a teenager and me, their teenage daughter, having a turkey neck (not that there is anything wrong with that and no turkeys were harmed in this post). So, the conversation started as I expected, with my father asking her the most important question, where the nearest dessert place was and before she could answer (not that she was going to answer), he got more particular in that he wanted pina colada frozen yogurt in a place where he could pull the handle in the wall and then cover the yogurt with gummy bears. My mother went on to tell her how happy she was when she found out she was having a girl and then when I was born but then it turned out I did not want to wear dresses, make up or dress in outfits like Hillary Clinton (not that there is anything wrong with Hillary Clinton and no outfits were harmed during this post and now what they would call me is non-binary not non-feminine but that is a whole other post).

Anyway the Principal agreed to having me join a few classes as a visitor (so that she could get us out of her office). At lunch time, the next day, I showed up in the cafeteria, all warmed up and ready to dance. I didn't care what anyone thought (because this is not really happening). I jumped up on a table in the front of the cafeteria and to absolutely no music, I footloosed all over the place. I was twisting, spinning, jumping, ripping up the place and you know what? Turns out teens don't eat lunch in the cafeteria and the only person who cared was the lunch monitor (who had no one else to monitor) and asked me to please get down off the table and go away.  

I was confused (often). Where were the people that don't allow dancing in their town?

When I returned to the hotel my parents were ready to go for dinner (3pm). They thought there would be an Early Bird Discount somewhere. We ended up at a local diner where my father requested the Early Bird Discount to no avail and I sat defeated with the exception of a really good club sandwich and milkshake.

Then I suddenly realized, I was passing up a great opportunity. I could get up onto our table and footloose like a wild magical mushroom and surely I would be in lots of trouble (and my father would finish my milkshake). The only music playing was Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon, but hey, I could make it work, sort of, well, not really. Anyway you know what happened? Nothing!

My parents wanted to go play Bingo and given my other evening activity options (none), I joined them. The place was packed and very quiet as players concentrated intensely staring down at their Bingo boards and hiding the results. Suddenly, I realized, this was my perfect chance to get up and go footloose fancy free like a windy curtain. So I got up on a long table where the judges (or those people who call out results and give away prizes and are also very serious) and I went for it and guess what? The players were furious (even though there was no music and I am very small and difficult to spot). The place was about to erupt and I was going to make Kevin Bacon proud (or confused) until someone (my mother) called out BINGO! 

The players forgot about me in a jiffy as they checked their cards profusely and wondered who this woman was (and why her husband was eating all the donuts). 

My mission had failed. The only upside was that my mother's Bingo win prize was a stadium seat cushion that I sat on all the way home on the count of having developed a road trip hemorrhoid.

Kevin - call me - and we will footloose like parmesan cheese falling on a bowl of spaghetti.