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Scoot Them Boots

March 19, 2009

I step into the hall with trepidation.

It is a sea of cowboy hats and boots, and Candy Lee’s and Billy Bob’s. Raucous cries of “YEE HAW” and “Howdy pardner” are interspersed with the jangling of country music.

Yes, it’s Boot Scoot for Charity. Something which I would normally avoid like the plague, if not for the free cake and cheap alcohol I was informed would be available by the platters and buckets tonight.

It would seem that I am too easily bribed.

I head straight to the bar to fortify myself for the night ahead. Then I take refuge by the cake table, stocking up on my reserves in case I have to make a quick escape. In mid face-stuff, I spot my friends across the room. Safety in numbers! I make my way to them, carefully skirting the dancefloor and ducking the occasional overeager hat.

I manage to reach them in one piece. They look just as uneasy as I feel. This is ridiculous, we agree. There is no way I’m dancing tonight, we each declare. I am relieved. We are safely ensconced in our solidarity away from the dancefloor. To keep ourselves busy, we take advantage of the low drink prices. It’s for charity!

Glasses of wine later, I realise that I am actually having a good time. One of my mates is hilarious! He has always been a funny bloke, but he’s in top form tonight. I’ve never laughed so hard. He should be in the Melbourne Comedy Fest! I lean across to tell him so, but nearly tip my chair over. That sends us all off again. Such laughter, it almost drowns out the country music. We order more drinks.

Further into the night, I suddenly find myself in the middle of the dance floor. How did I get here? I panic for a moment, until I realise that I’m doing the Macarena. The Macarena, I’m bloody fantastic at it! Everybody dances along with me because I’m so awesome. Hey Macarena, ay!

Badger magically materialises by my elbow. Hooray, my butterscotchy bootalicious Badger! He changed his mind about staying home after all! I try to dance the Badger song with him but he declines. He has come to take me home! BOOOO! Party pooper, I want to stay and dance! Dance! Dance! There might be a conga line! We could conga conga conga!

But he is having none of it. What a spoilsport! He grabs me firmly and pulls me away, but not before I grab myself a takeaway plateful of chocolate cake. He is lucky I am such a forgiving person. I am still in high spirits as I stick my head out the car window and sing with gusto all the way home. Even being rejected when I offer chocolate cake to some nice policemen who stop us on the street does not dampen my cheer.

What a lovely night! Who knew boot scooting could be such fun!

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