POLKA PARTY POOPERS

Saturday night I laced up my fancy Easy Spirits and then spirited away to the polka fest in Pittsburg with three dates--Big Bore, age 55, my niece’s husband Sam, in his late 30’s, and my great neph Luke, age 10. Surely out of this trio, I could find someone with whom to roll out the barrel and kick up my heels.

Before we whisked out of the driveway, I knew this was going to be a challenge:

“I don’t polka,” Sam said adamantly.

“I’ll think about it,” said Big Bore. Now I know for a fact that he CAN do the polka because he’s danced with me, reluctantly, in our living room when the Lawrence Welk Show was on. He knows the steps and he has the rhythm.

“I’ve been practicing,” Luke said. Great. There’s hope for this bunch yet.

But when we got to the polka venue, I knew all bets were off. It was at a well-lighted pavillion with hundreds of people seated in hundreds of chairs around the dance floor. Not like the nights of yore when the polka fest was a poorly-lit street dance with people just milling around. Nope. This was a bit more formal.

"There’s too many people watching!" Luke protested. About all I succeeded in doing was getting him to try a few steps on the outskirts away from the dance floor. He quickly lost interest and wrapped himself around a tiered sidewalk hand railing, so I’d have to pry him off of it if I was ever going to get him to dance. I turned to Big Bore.

“I’m sorry but forget about it! There's too many people.”

“Nobody’s going to make fun of you,” I told the guys. “Look. There are some people who are barely moving their feet. And there’s old ladies dancing with old ladies. Who cares.”

But there was no budging my dance dates. Eventually Sam and Luke walked off to the concession area. I’ll give Big Bore a little credit. At least he stayed with me and didn’t hide when I did the chicken dance all by myself.

Geesh! What a bunch of fuddy duddies! Next time I go to a polka fest in Pittsburg, I’m gonna take my 4-year-old great neph Boomer. He’s more my age!!