There are a couple of guys who work for the French Red Cross who I was first introduced to at the Belgian bar back in January. I don't remember much about them that night except that by the end of it they were lining up shots of rum, whiskey, and vodka, shooting them down, then asking for another round. Being a highly sophisticated consumer of alcohol, I maybe judged them a little. Maybe just a little.
Lo! and behold! We ran into those two the next night at a party. They could easily be identified as the guys with their shirts off, dancing up a storm on the dance floor, each with a bottle of wine in hand. Next weekend: same guys, different party. One of them dances a bit like a strutting chicken. The other is unabashedly sweaty.
And so it has been at nearly every party I have been to since. The French boys can be found on the dance floor, shirts off, freaking anyone brave enough to come close. They are so ridiculous and so disinterested in being taken seriously, that they are actually.....good fun! I found myself looking forward to their antics and appreciating the energy they bring to the dance floor.
My hats went off to them last weekend at a friend's birthday bash when they suddenly disappeared from the dance floor (shirts off, of course), only to return wearing cuffs with links and collars with bowties. Heh, heh. Good value, those guys.
Lo! and behold! We ran into those two the next night at a party. They could easily be identified as the guys with their shirts off, dancing up a storm on the dance floor, each with a bottle of wine in hand. Next weekend: same guys, different party. One of them dances a bit like a strutting chicken. The other is unabashedly sweaty.
And so it has been at nearly every party I have been to since. The French boys can be found on the dance floor, shirts off, freaking anyone brave enough to come close. They are so ridiculous and so disinterested in being taken seriously, that they are actually.....good fun! I found myself looking forward to their antics and appreciating the energy they bring to the dance floor.
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| A rare shot of the guys with their shirts on. Lord help us if they decide to turn up to the jazz festival this week. |
My hats went off to them last weekend at a friend's birthday bash when they suddenly disappeared from the dance floor (shirts off, of course), only to return wearing cuffs with links and collars with bowties. Heh, heh. Good value, those guys.
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