The front door opens up. I can hear Lady Gaga blaring from outside the door. My girl comes in from the rain holding onto Barb’s cellphone, the source of Lady Gaga. She is wearing a bright pink shirt, pink pants with a black star pattern on them, shaking her head from side to side, her rump in whatever direction her rump will go and her legs are moving independently. This independent movement is reinforced when she takes two steps…two dance steps and falls over. She saves the phone and the large yellow duck suspended from her neck by a yellow cord from harm.
Gaga still blaring away, dancing or having a seizure, she pulls the duck’s head off and begins to blow bubbles. My girl continues to dance while holding the cellphone with one hand and using the other hand to blow bubbles. Dancing, bubble-blowing-around and around she goes. The last time I saw this kind of behavior was at the club.
First came the music.
Then came the brightly colored outfits and strange accessories.
Then the glow-sticks.
Then the “dancing.”
At some point the strange accessories and dancing were merged.
Me I was out the door. Unfortunately I live in this rave.