and then the penny dropped!

As I walked close to the huge circus style tent I could hear the beats of the drums, the strumming of the guitar and the roar of the crowd. My stomach churned with anticipation or perhaps I should have eaten before I started drinking. The hits came one after another, after another. The audience danced and the endorphins swam like fish in a high sea. "Good times, these are the good times" came blasting from the stage "leave your cares behind...these are the good times."

Chic were rocking the crowd and these were good times indeed. For a few short hours I was dancing without a care in the world, forgot about the worries of no work and the daily stresses of paying the bills and wondering what the future held.

From the corner of my eye I saw him, just standing there, staring, not moving. He looked totally out of place with his broad shoulders, his peaked cap and the sour face of a guy who had just lost a million euros on some silly bet. His presence was not in sync with the mood of the crowd. I got pissed off at him. He was killing my buzz, he gave me a slap of reality that I didn't expect and one that I'll never forget. With that short glimpse he was reminding me of all those things I'd forgotten about. Feeling resentful I tried to forget about him then I tried to understand him. I failed miserably at both.

Chic played hit after hit, he just stood there, staring, not moving. I tried forgetting about him, moved further into the crowd danced with even more energy but he was still there. I kept looking back to check if the next soul tingling hit would make his body sway, flinch or flicker. Nothing!

He bothered me, he didn't ruin my night, just soured it a little. I just couldn't understand, why did he even bother turning up? Was he there through choice? Did he work there and just couldn't wait until he was able to get the fuck home? Was his stresses so great that he couldn't forget them for such a short time. I wanted to know his story but it was too late to ask for the night was over and my bed was calling. Not to mention the fact that he would've probably told me to fuck off!

The next morning the first image I had in my head was him, just standing there, staring, not moving. Why had his presence touched me so much? I just didn't get it, then with a sense of relief and explanation that I could comprehend I said to myself. "Maybe he was dancing on the inside" and off I went to make a bacon sandwich to feed that starving hangover.