I love flash mobs. And I want to marry flash dance mobs. It's the faux spontaneity that cracks me up, because there's a deal of planning for some of them, but it's the street theater that I love about it. I've seen clips of some flash mob dances and those send me into a paroxysm of glee.
Back in my 20s when I was a part of that underground theater group, my friends and I would do stuff like pretty regularly. Rarely planned ahead of time, mostly it was spontaneous. Out and about in the rain with umbrellas? Look! It's "Singing in the Rain" performed by three women with not a lot of dancing skills! We'd break into song, or fall into scenes from a play we'd been in (usually something wildly out of place) while window shopping in malls or eating in diners. Carol and I once seriously freaked out a cleaning lady in a road-side stop in Colorado somewhere by going into a Monty Python routine about putting down a cat. We didn't even realize she was there for the longest time :)
Spontaneous dancing was always fun. Actually not too long ago I was down in CT visiting my best friends, Carol and Robin. We were at a K-Mart roaming the aisles when the muzak kicked it up with a Latin beat. Without even thinking about it, we started dancing in the aisles. Next thing we know, another random shopping lady about our age is joining us. We formed a samba line and laughed and danced our way through several sections of the store before the music stopped. When it did, she thanked us, laughing. Said she'd done things like that with her friends, too; her kids thought she was an embarrassment, and she thought that they all had sticks up their asses :)
We did one piece of what National Lampoon magazine (back when it was cutting edge) called Mona Guerilla Theatre: we gathered around a sewer grate in one of our neighborhoods. Edgar (he kept the best straight face) started talking to his mother who was trapped down there. We don't know how it happened - maybe an open manhole cover - but she was down there and scared. "It's all right, mother. don't be scared. We've called for help." People gathered. My favorite part came up: "John's gone to get the canary, mother. When he gets back we're going to lower it down to you. Watch the canary very carefully, mother, OK?" Hee! Then you start slowly backing away from it until just the on-lookers are left, scratching their heads. Or there was our public duel in the park, except the guns turned out to be cream pies. Ah, good times.
I love that sort of spontaneous, joyful, goofy proof of being alive. One of the things I love about Dar is that when one of her favorite songs comes on the radio, she will sometimes swoop over to where I am in the kitchen and start dancing with me. Love. It. I pretend to grouse because that's my role in the game, but I get such a kick out of it.
Oh! Dancing with Fully Erect Mal in the parking lot of the York Hotel in Toronto on the night before WorldCon. sffan
got in on that one, if I remember correctly. Yay! So I exhort you all to sing, to dance when the mood strikes you. And I leave you with a YouTube video of a flash dance on a London tube. (I gotta say, they're a bit uptight about it. If this was on the red line in Boston, they'd have people dancing along with them.)