The Change: 22

Upping The Ante

(This is an ongoing story. If you want to start at the beginning, click here.)

I’m not sure which Flash Mob was the first I ever saw. At first I thought it was the one at a shopping mall where people started standing on the food court tables and spontaneously singing Amazing Grace. It gave me chills and made me cry. But I think the one that started my frenzied flash mob pursuit took place in Israel. It was a dancing flash mob and from the moment I saw it, I really, really, really, really wanted to be a part of a flash mob. Really.

Because I don't sing, I set my sights on a dancing flash mob, and a few years ago, on a cold December morning in Times Square, my prayers were almost answered. My friend, Claudine, and I signed up for a flash mob and “performed” in the middle of Broadway…but it was lame. I’m not going to go into how and why it was lame. I wrote about it and if you’re interested you can read about it HERE and HERE. The point is, it did not satisfy my Flash Mob longing and I still consider myself a Flash Mob Virgin.

Now, I have another opportunity to be in a dancing Flash Mob. It’s coming up soon. But there’s one teeny, tiny problem. I don’t think I can dance. And this is breaking my heart.

I told AE about the Flash Mob and she said she’s going to try her darndest to get me back on my feet again by then. The first rehearsal is this coming weekend. I’m going to go, but I can’t imagine it will go well.  I tried to play tennis this week and it was grim.

All week I’ve been teetering between being wildly optimistic and a Debbie Downer. On my positive days, I’ve taken to talking to my foot – giving it little pep talks and words of encouragement throughout the day. If you see me walking around town muttering toward the ground, that’s probably what I’m doing.

Being able to dance in a Flash Mob right now would require some sort of miracle. Like, a bigger miracle than getting to a train on time. But, sometimes crazy shit can happen.

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