Friday, October 02, 2009

How old is too old to be out dancing until 4 a.m.?

I am proof in the flesh that 48 is not too old. And we are not talking wimpy dancing, either. I got all sweaty and soaked, in my t-shirt and green suspenders, shaking every part of my body hard and fast.

We were just coming off of a dinner of saffron curry chicken and fried bread and homemade coconut ice cream with cardamom caramel sauce for dessert. Not so heavy going, despite the sound of it. The girl from L.A. had at last moved to Stockholm (well, not at last – she’d been here for a month but we were all absorbed in marrying off the children’s book author and the sea captain) so we were celebrating.

“Welcome,” the husband toasted to her and her boyfriend, and all 11 of us raised our glasses. "Here's to the first of many dinners."

Absolutely, I thought to myself.

So we talked and ate, each group having its own conversations, discussing everything from Maira Kalman - the girl from L.A. went to a knitted hat party at her house! - to getting lost in the Ikea at Kungens Kurva, and the insanity that is shopping at Ikea on a Saturday, to the stripey goodness of her boyfriend's socks (I forced him to come and look at all our stripey socks in the newly refurbished dressing room at the back of the apartment.)

Then, at about 12:30, we all put on our coats and trooped out to go to some club where the pop star was playing, except when we got there push had come to shove, shove, shove as we stood around listening to the tunes being spun, being so manhandled and elbowed by the crowd that our little group nearly imploded.

"Someone pinched my ass," the boyfriend of the girl from L.A. said.

"Was that you, Francis?" the children's book author said.

I denied it.

"Well, I wouldn't have minded if it was Francis, at least I know him," the boyfriend of the girl from L.A. said.

Then some girl tried to pick him up. That is totally un-Swedish I said. I told him it must be his naturally curly hair that was attracting all the attention. Then we left for some new gay club that's opened up, near Norrlandsgatan. Push had not come to shove there, thank goodness. Push hadn't even come to push yet, although at least one of the dance floors was pleasantly packed. It was there that we ended the night.

The Swedish phrase for the day is klockan fyra på morgonen. It means four in the morning.

9 comments:

Aymo said...

You're BAAAAAAAAAAAACK!
I missed you!

:-)

Marleen said...

Me, too! But nice to hear you've apparently been having fun while you were absent.

An American in Stockholm said...

Oooh, so you got your groove on. Attaboy.

Carla said...

Klockan fyra på morgonen is a sensible time to be out dancing, once in awhile ... så roligt!

I've been to Stockholm 3 times and haven't been to Kungens Kurva yet!

Is it un-Swedish for women to do the picking up? eeps! I was the (mild) aggressor at the beginning of my romance with a Swedish fella.

M.W. Nolden said...

Nice to have you back…
(In the better late than never category; I never considered Joni Mitchell folk music.)

Francis S. said...

Carla: If you ask me, it is un-Swedish for anyone to pick anyone up... unless extremely drunk. Which this particular young woman was not. But I think they appreciate the bold approach in non-Swedes.

esotericbehavior said...

you are my idol! :)

Carla said...

hmmmm well that explains a lot! I thought he wasn't taking action because he's a twee nerd, but I guess it's because he's Swedish! Good thing there are liberated Canadian women who know what they want.

DrDan said...

I never want to get so old that I do not want to, or are not able to, dance all night.
I belive that G G Marquez calls it Geronotophobia.

 


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