A group of diverse and highly educated women

Recently I was invited to spend the evening with a group of diverse and highly educated women (the words of the invitee, not me). I was immediately intimidated because how does one even dress for an evening like that? I consulted my friends and family, who were no help at all, offering suggestions like 'I see a caftan and turban headwrap' (that was Deb), or 'what about a bunny costume? Everyone loves bunnies! (that was my daughter), or even 'wear that low-cut wrap shirt, I like that one a lot! (that was Steve). I finally went with (wait for it...) black pants and a white blouse. I know, I know, but c'mon! it's a lot of pressure spending an evening with a group of diverse and highly educated women!

We had dinner. Dinner was normal. Dinner was do-able.

Then we went to a show. An 'Off the Beaten Path Jazz and Tap Odyssey' it was billed. Now for the record, I am not a huge fan of jazz or tap but when a group of diverse and highly educated women ask you to go out with them, you do not refuse. The show began much as I expected the show to begin: a sixty-something woman, short cropped white hair, black turtleneck, black yoga pants, flowing, shimmery, silver caftan (you were right, Deb!) tapped onto the stage and began a dramatic reading of poetry accompanied by a jazz quartet. Her silver tap shoes winked and sparkled as she tapped offstage and 5 dancers, clad completely in black, tapped onstage whilst the lights flashed purple, then blue, then dissolved into an underwatery-feeling-purple-and-blue-wave pattern. The show went on. And on. Dancers, poetry, jazz. And on. More dancers, more poetry, more jazz. Just when I began to worry that this evening was a little too educated for me, the diversity part took center stage in the form of the single male dancer, now clad only in a silver thong covered with silver disks and a chain mail vest with silver disks over his nipples and one single silver disk stuck to his forehead. He stood there for a moment under a single spotlight: head down, legs spread wide, knees slightly bent, fish-white belly gleaming under the chain mail. Then he began to dance. At first he just moved his feet from side to side making the little disks jangle and clank. Then he stood up straight, threw back his head, closed his eyes and began to pound on his...um...his parts that were barely hidden under the thong. He banged on those parts for all he was worth! Sweat poured down his face and neck, his feet pounded the stage floor rhythmically, his knees flexed, and his flat palms just kept banging those disks. Occasionally one hand would come up and clang the nipple disk, or the head disk, but mostly they concentrated on the ...genital disks.

It was a sight to see.

There was a moment of complete silence when he was finished, then the crowed erupted into applause, cheering, and foot stomping. He was the piece de resistance.

And what was I doing, you may ask? Well, after the initial shock wore off, I was more amused than I had ever been by any other sight I have ever seen. I couldn't stop smiling and my fingers actually ached to call Steve and tell him what I had just witnessed. I kept it together until I reached the privacy of my own car, then I laughed so hard I cried. I laughed all the way home and then laughed some more. I am still smiling as I write this.

I don't care so much about the educated part, but these diverse women really know good entertainment!