You know that commercial where the guy makes money to buy coke, so he can make more money, so he can buy more coke, so he can make more money to buy coke?
If I stop dancing, my legs will get stiff and sore, and I’ll walk about like Kerry Weaver with a cane. I must keep dancing.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“Don’t you need a cigarette?”
“Can we watch School of Rock now?”
The Revolution will not wait; it cannot stop for dinner, or cigarettes, or even Jack Black.
I’m terrified of the idea of sitting on a plane for two hours tomorrow. Just sitting. Not moving. Never moving again. Gone to stone.
I might need special assistance and have to wait in the pre-board area and have them wheel me out to the taxi stand.
Lyle gets it: “This is Kingdom Hearts all over again.”
I’m chasing the DanceDance Dragon. It’s no longer cute or fun or quirky. It’s become necessary.
I’m dancing as fast as I can.