Dancing With Aliens

Last Saturday I visited an alien planet.

Saturday was my mother-in-law’s 80th birthday and all of Barbara’s siblings came to town with all their sub-siblings in tow.

That is generally enough to make me wish I was on an alien planet, but that’s not the story.

The birthday celebration lunch was held at Ingrid’s Kitchen, a German restaurant and deli located in a not so nice neighborhood around 36th and Youngs Blvd.  We got there early to set up things and as I was getting out of the car I noticed that people were already piling in.  Not just any people.  Old people.  And some REALLY old people.  And those that didn’t drive themselves, were dropped off by their facilities van. 

Inside the average age was at least 70.  And I emphasize ‘average”.  At our table there were some 20 somethings.  And that brought the average down. 

And at one end of the restaurant, there was a band.  And the average of the band had to be 75.  And when the band started to play, all the old folks got up to dance.  And they danced and danced and danced and danced……..  I though I was in a filming of another sequel of Cocoon.

Funny thing, though.  It was really a lot of fun.  Pretty soon my mother-in-law was dancing.  And Barbara.  And her siblings.  And even the sub-siblings.

Fun though it was, for me, it was surreal.  Even when I could dance, I didn’t.  I danced at my wedding.  That was enough.  So dance halls of any repute are foreign to me. 

But the dancers where having fun.  And the band was having fun.  And the singer was having fun (she was also over 70). And the non-dancing crowd was having fun.

So if you live in the city, or are coming to the city, go to Ingrid’s Kitchen at noon on Saturday.

And bring your dancing shoes.