There are a few things that are excused when you’re sober.
You may become temperamental and get into a physical altercation, it’s OK, we all have our boiling points.
You may have a moment in the car dancing and singing out loud or picking your nose, if it’s in there then it’s gotta come out some how.
There are a few moments though that, if you are in public or social situations, seem to be unacceptable.
We all have our crazy moments, but typically there is some reason.
We may not admit it as humans, but we are all weird in one way or another so it’s difficult to decipher what odd is until something truly off the wall is viewed. It can come in a subtle manner.
Recently, I was in the new Student Union when from the ATM line I see a guy warming up his feet by doing his Dance-Dance Revolution routine.
This would be acceptable if he was alone.
I would even give him a pass if there were music playing. The only sound was silence.
He wasn’t doing this as a means of a practical joke either and I, of all people, can tell.
How do I know this for sure, you ask? Because he looked at anyone who was staring at him like they were crazy.
He honestly seemed offended that anyone would question his DDR skills in the ATM line as if to say, “What, you don’t see the arrows on the floor?!”
Such is the reason we step over homeless people when they start babbling about eating pigeons to protect the umbrellas.
The difference being one group is legally insane, thus getting a by, the other is just doing something ridiculously dumb in public.
Let’s continue on this journey. I’m at a socialite heavy rooftop place in Birmingham.
I’m rubbing elbows with the elite and being one of the younger people there as a friend of the DJ’s.
I took it upon myself to break-dance just to show off and hope that maybe one of these rich people will adopt me and we start a sitcom franchise similar to a modern Diff’rent Strokes.
It was going to be called Wealthy Old Guy and the 21-Year-Old Break-Dancing Black Kid, title pending, but my dreams were shattered by a mostly toothless gentleman who felt the need to freestyle rap the most awkward, gratuitous, disgusting freestyle rap I may have ever heard. On top of that, it didn’t rhyme.
Keep in mind, this guy had only a few sips of one drink and seemed perfectly sane, just a bit off in an “I’m going to rap you to death” kind of way.
Even when I ignored him he felt the need to continue his efforts to let me in on his rap-escapade fusion full of gestures and motions and spit from his toothless grin.
I felt so creeped out I couldn’t even dance any longer.
I just tried to help the DJ pack up his things and shake my head in fear and hope that enough showers would wash off the evil this man’s music just bestowed upon my brain.
I alone can’t continue to fight the efforts of society to end sane freak-out moments in large social places.
Smokey the Bear tells us we must do our part and I am saying the same to you, loyal Plainsman readers.
Even if it’s as simple as not allowing your crazy friends to come out because they’re known to do something crazy and not in a cool jump-naked-into the-pool-from-a-flaming -skateboard way.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go slay a Converse spitting dragon on the moon.
-Martin Morrow is a guest commentary writer for The Plainsman and is a senior in radio, television and film.-