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"The angry cracker hoe-down",... that's what my friends call the way I
dance. Unfortunately, it's the only dance I know. Through out the
winter we'd hit up the bars every weekend, and every time I stepped
foot onto the dance floor it was the "angry cracker hoe-down".
There was no escaping it, if I tried to move to the music, that's
how I moved. Women would clear the floor, my friends would
fall over laughing, and I'd just dance.
At first I thought they were all impressed, wowed by my inventive moves, my style and grace. But eventually, I realized that I had no style, there was no grace in my step, and the women all moved away from me because they were genuinely afraid.
Well lucky for me, I have very little shame. And the little bit of self consciousness that lingers inside, is usually easily forgotten with dollar drink specials. Unfortunately, busting moves by myself got old. All my friends grew tired of being crowded onto the sides of the dance floor while everyone else in the bar made sure I had enough room to not accidentally donkey kick someone in the teeth. So we did like any well intentioned climbers would do, and once again abandoned any prospects of meeting women to instead go climbing.
Well that was early February, and the weather was wicked. There were days when the daily high almost reached 10 degrees Fahrenheit. But at least we where out, giving up the comforts of a warm bar stool or TV remote for what we loved. Now we didn't completely give up on the whole drinking thing. Alcohol was in important part of staying warm in those early spring days. But the season had begun. So here are a few pics of some of the bouldering from this spring, starting with this one. To the left is the author of this sad piece, me, playing on some south facing rock behind the apartments on 1st Street. Cheers, -josh |
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