This may be come as a surprise, but I’ve never been known for my dance moves.

At concerts, I usually just hold a drink in my hand and nod my head. The whole time. Occasionally, I’ll spice it up and throw in some side to side head movement when I’m really feeling it, but that’s about it.

At weddings, it takes a lot of alcohol just to get me out on the dance floor, and even then I’m uncomfortable. I just don’t know what to do out there.

I try to shake my hips a little bit, but my feet end up hardly moving. And I especially don’t know what to do with my hands, which makes it extra awkward, because I end up wagging my finger back and forth like they did in the 1920s.

In most cases, I’d imagine that if I woke up in the 1920s, I’d be very advanced compared to the average human. But then I’d go to a party, end up in the center of a dance circle and everyone would still be like: “what the fuck is that?”

There is no feeling worse in the world than finding yourself unprepared and thrust into the center of a dance circle.

I’m pretty sociable at these events, so whenever a dance circle breaks out (which seems to be inevitable), people expect me to participate.

This is how it typically goes after the circle forms:

There are always the first 2-3 people that are actually good dancers.

Then a really drunk guy does some sort of inappropriate air-hump move that gets a good reaction from the crowd.

A few more bold dancers jump in. Someone usually does the sprinkler move.

But then after a minute or 2, the circle becomes empty, and the eyes start darting around looking for someone to jump in and entertain them.

“Max, get in there” someone says.

I do the “polite decline” gesture where I tilt my head down with a tight closed mouth and hold up a hand.

But these people are persistent. The circle will die if its not danced in.

The drunk guy is back in the circle now for the third time, and everyone is sick of his air-hump move at this point.

“Max come on!” Someone else says.

Again, I hit them with the polite decline.

And then someone pushes me in.

It was like entering a black hole.

Time stood still for a second. The music was silent but I could feel the beat pulsing through my veins.

Excited faces surrounded me in all directions, thrilled to have a new subject to observe.

I close my eyes and take a long, deep breath. And then, outside of my control, my body takes over.

My right foot goes forward. My left foot back. I twist my body to the right. Then I switch.

Left foot forward, right foot back. Twist my body to the left. I roll my arms and lean in the direction of each step.

“Holy shit,” I think to myself, “I can dance!”

I lean back, shake my hips and then let my whole upper body go limp.

“Wow, this feels great!” I think to myself.

But when I open my eyes, the circle had totally dissolved. Somehow my dance moves had killed the circle quicker than if nobody had danced at all.

Maybe I should have had a few more drinks and I could’ve just been the drunk air hump guy.

Discouraged, I left the dance floor. But as I was walking back to my seat, the DJ started a new song. A song that was vaguely familiar.

“And this time… we’re gonna get funky! (Funky, funky, funky).”

I stopped in my tracks. Could it be?

The song continued.

“Slide to the left.
Slide to the right.
Take it back now, y’all”

It was!

The Cha – Cha Slide! I know this one. This was my chance for redemption. I ran back out to the dance floor.

“2 hops this time.”

I hop twice.

“Everybody clap your hands.”

I clap my hands.

These are moves that I have mastered.

“Slide to the right.”

I slide to the right.

“Cha-cha real smooth”

Ok I don’t necessarily know how to “cha-cha real smooth”. I can fake it well enough to not clear out the dance floor, but nothing about my Cha-cha is “real smooth”.

The Cha-Cha slide is the best song a DJ can play. It gets everyone out on the dance floor. Because unless you are handicapped, there’s really no excuse to skip it.

You can’t get away with the “I don’t know this dance” like you can with the Cupid Shuffle. There’s literally no learning curve. The most recent Cha Cha Slide I participated in was exactly the same as the first Cha-Cha Slide I participated in.

There’s no room for: “This is my first Cha-Cha Slide, so lets take it a little slow please, I’m still trying to learn the choreography.”

But the Cha-Cha Slide is all about context. Because it wouldn’t work the same at a dinner party, or at a campfire, or in the car.

In the wrong context, the Cha-Cha Slide can actually be catastrophic.

Imagine being caught listening to the Cha-Cha Slide alone through your headphones at work. You’d be fired.

Or if your Spotify song of the year was the Cha-Cha Slide. You’d be kicked off Spotify.

Is there any explanation for that? I guess if you only use Spotify to DJ at Bar Mitvahs. The songs of the year would be Cha-Cha Slide, “I got a Feelin’” by the Black Eyed Peas, and “Hava Nagila”.

The song ended and I left the dance floor, having fully redeemed myself for the dance circle disaster.

As I walked back to my seat, I thought to myself, “I cannot wait for the next instructional dance song to come out. And this time, they better get funky! (Funky, funky, funky).”