I think his tractor's sexy

My sister took me country-swing dancing the other night. You'll remember that I predicted this way back last summer--that country dancing would probably be my only real option once I'm back in the States. And since I ended up in cattle country or whatever it's even more true.

So. I went, and it was actually a lot of fun. I hadn't been dancing since last summer and oh my how I've missed it. It felt so great just to be out there. Country swing is not too different to ceroc, actually. There is less adherence to any sort of beat, and there are more dislocated shoulders from cowboys flinging you about as if you were an unruly calf or similar.

Also there are line dances (like every other song) which I'm not terribly crazy about. The only line dance I learned in England was at that seventies bar. It was set to Donna Summer's "Hot Stuff," which . . . yeah. Won't be breaking out that one anytime soon. All in all, still good fun. I wore my lucky shirt, so I got asked to dance a reasonable number of times. (The universe bends to my will when I wear this shirt. It's a fact.) The crowd seemed to be mostly Utah State students, and one boy asked me how old I was.

Me: "I'm 27."

Him: "Oh, okay."

Me: "And how old are you?"

Him: "I'm, uh, 21."

Me: "Well, I'm flattered, then."

Him (after a pause to think): "No, I'm the one who's flattered!"

Sweet kid.

Later my sister and her roommates explained to me how you can tell the real cowfolk from the posers.

Real cowboys wear:

Wrangler jeans that look like they've been ironed
real cowboy boots with real mud on them
$400 Stetson hats
massive belt buckles that they won as rodeo prizes

(The bigger the buckle, the higher the prize. It's like a trophy that one wears over one's belly button. If a real cowboy leaves his shirt untucked he makes sure to tuck in the bit just behind the buckle so that his achievements remain on display.)

Real cowboys are "Ag majors" here at Utah State, which means they're studying agriculture.

Posers wear clean boots and belt buckles from a department store.

And here endeth the cultural lesson for today. I am happy to be One Who Dances again.

Posted in: Utah