You’re a loose cannon! You reassure yourself that this is a good idea and swallow the pill. After all, this might be a longer night than your used to and could use a little help staying out. Until now you haven’t taken notice of the music, but oh my god “Shake It” by Metro Station has just come on.
You LOVE this song. Maybe it’s the drugs or maybe it’s just the intoxicating synths of keyboardist Blake Healey. Either way, a sudden urge to dance rushes over you. You’re still sober, you think, but there is a giddy tingle of anticipation flowing through your limbs. What have I just taken? You don’t care. All you care about is getting to the dance floor in time to yell ‘Let’s drop!’
It’s close, but you make it.
“Let’s drop!”
You’re jumping up and down now. You think maybe you should shake it, but everyone knows this is a jumping song. Every thumping kick from Anthony Improgo’s drum kit commands your left arm to pump as high as it can. Enter Mason Musso’s powerful, yet airy, voice. You know every word but your favorite parts to sing are the backup vocals.
“Leave me at the front door!” … “Get inside!”
Without realizing it you’ve fist pumped your way to the middle of the dancefloor. It’s crowded in here. You’re shoulder to shoulder, it’s hot, and you love it. In fact, you’re loving everything right now. This school, these people, every member of Metro Station, you love it all and this puts a great big smile on your face.
As the song ends you realize you have been sweating, like, a lot. You run your fingers through your hair to keep it off your face. It’s so soft, you think this must be what a unicorn’s mane feels like. It’s incredible! You can’t stop feeling your hair. You make eye contact with a student next to you. You love this person.
“Oh you’re rolling for sure,” they say.
The deep bassline of an EDM song unknown to you overtakes your ears and your body before you can even comprehend what has just been said to you. You don’t even like EDM but your body is chained to the music. You can’t stop dancing. It’s utterly cathartic. Song after song you dance without inhibition, without break, and without taking off your coat. You not sure how long you’ve been dancing and now you’re not really sure where you are. You’re weak, woozy and hot all over. The jacket needs to come off but your losing your vision and can’t focus on your hands. If only you could get off this dancefloor, maybe get some water, but it’s hopeless. You can barely stand now, let alone walk. Climactically, the song drops and so do you.
You’ve just danced yourself to death. Did you learn nothing? Water is lyfe. Maybe if you drank some you wouldn’t have just collapsed in front of every socially relevant student on campus. Who wears a winter jacket to a Molly party anyway? Overheat much?
Homecoming of Horrors 