I love a good party. And by good party, I mean one where everyone is on the dance floor, free of their inhibitions and simply loving life. The ones where your vision starts to blur and all that surrounds you is the sound of music and the feel of the dance floor beneath your feet. Nothing else matters except trying to stay upright and not have your knee pop out (I didn’t used to think of the latter, but now that I’m a wee bit older it’s a vital focus of the dancing if I want to ski for the rest of the season).
Maybe it is because I grew up listening to Madonna, but I always felt the dance floor was a place where you could get away. My first cassette tape was from the coolest aunt ever. When I was about 6 she gave me a stereo with an 8-track, two cassette players and a record player. I had to be the coolest kid ever and that first tape: Madonna’s Madonna. I’ve been a Madonna fan since the very beginning: you don’t learn to hold back on the dance floor, you learn to Vogue.
Maybe it’s because my dad showed me that the dance floor was a place where you could simply be yourself. He had the most unique way of dancing, because he didn’t care what anyone else thought about him. He loved swing dancing, but made his own way. It was as if stepping on the dance floor released you from the judgments of others, that nothing mattered but simply feeling the music and letting it take you away.
Maybe it’s because I grew up in a weird community that got drunk and threw a theme party every Saturday night all summer long. I learned how to line dance and square dance. I know the choreography to Paradise on the Dashboard Light and the Time Warp. I know how to Vogue and do the Beer Barrel Polka.
Maybe it’s because Killington is full of houses that just love a good party. And when I mean a good party, I mean the ones where everyone is running out of the house carrying a random drum, music stand or sound equipment as we evacuate and wait for the fire trucks to come. The ones where the band is set up in the basement party room and everyone is jumping around for hours. The ones with a little fire pit outside where you can go to let your ears rest for a minute before diving back into the fray.
Because the fray is awesome. There is an unwritten understanding that what happens of the dance floor at a house party doesn’t matter in the least. Because no one actually sees anyone. Sure, you might smile at each other, make eye contact or sing along together at an essential part of a song but you are still having an independent moment all together. You’re a superstar. Let your body go with the flow.
I went to the best house party of the year this past weekend. It was classic. A ski house, crazy outfits, local grunge band The Idiots rocking in the basement, and me, showing up in the middle of the craziest hour as I got out of work. It was awesome. And pure fun. It’s kind of like skiing, except that you match your rhythms to the music rather than the mountain. Right? If skiing is a dance, then it makes sense why dancing is a huge part of ski culture. We cannot help but be caught up in the movement.
By Merisa Sherman
The Idiots (Rick Webb and Aaron Normand) provided tunes for an epic dance party.
Because the mountain is our dance floor. Think about what you do while you’re ripping down the mountain, making your moves and swinging your hips. Ski dancing is even actually a thing, as is ski ballet. Skiing and dancing were intermingled way before Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello went on a “Ski Party” in 1965. You don’t think Stein Erickson was the sexiest skier in history, as he danced down the mountain?
I always dreamed of living a life where dancing was an integral part. Maybe all those years dancing by myself in my room, with my family and with my friends are what help me feel the movements on the slopes. We always talk about the technical and power components of skiing, but what about the gracefulness, the elegance and the smoothness required for increased efficiency? Perhaps we need to spend more time on the dance floor and less time in the gym. You’ve got to .. let your body move to the music. VOGUE!
Merisa Sherman is a long-time Killington resident, local Realtor, bartender and KMS Coach. She can be reached at [email protected].
