Where Are You From?
This weekend, I spent Friday night playing trivia games at Dave & Buster’s with a few good friends. You cannot imagine how cut throat I can become once realizing children’s prizes are involved in said games. I left Times Square with a new pink stuffed monster (don’t be jealous) and the phone number of a slightly creepy actor working at the facility… yes, I admit it. I panicked again. I accepted the number of another male whom I had no intention of calling. Per usual, I didn’t think to say I had a boyfriend and just took his number… luckily one of my best guy friends was on hand to delete it immediately there after and to scold me for agreeing to call him in the first place. Oops.
On Saturday afternoon, a friend of mine and I decided to go check out Electric Daisy Carnival at MetLife Stadium in New Jersey. If you know what that is you get one free imaginary cookie from me. If not, it’s a music festival based in Las Vegas that features some of the world’s best DJs all together over a three day period. It’s basically an electronic Coachella and Avicii was playing on Saturday night, who I have formed an unhealthy obsession with over the past few weeks.
If you saw me in person, I don’t think you’d suspect I was into any type of DJ scene - mostly because I just recently became interested in it - and because I don’t do drugs nor wear a pile of overly bright neon clothes much as many fans do. Based on this criteria, my friend and I didn’t exactly fit in among thousands of fans wearing rainbow tutus, waving lolly pops around and throwing yellow and green glow sticks in the air. For this reason, I prefer to enjoy these types of concerts from areas where the masses are not. Luckily, my friend had set all this up so we didn’t have to watch from the main sea of drug ingesting hipsters.
After climbing up the stairs of a restricted area along the side of the stage, we located a good spot with some steps to stand on (we’re two short girls) and looked around us. We quickly realized that the neon had bled into this area also and we were pretty much on our own as far as normalcy was concerned. My friend remarked that if she was tasked with locating someone to date in this crowd of 10,000 - she’d be screwed. As Avicii started his set, we zoned in on a group of four or five men about 15 feet away from us. They were nothing but absolute, pure entertainment. I’ve never seen anything like it. All of them stood facing each other in a circle and one after the other began to dance like no one was watching. I mean - arms flailing, legs kicking, Elaine from Seinfeld - dancing. It was almost as if their body parts were not attached to one another and each had set out on it’s own search for rhythm. I, being one who is easily amused, began laughing immediately while my friend reached into her purse to get her iPhone and begin recording this glorious display.
After recording for about three minutes, we were spotted by the group and promptly yelled at - it’s a joke guys, chill out. Apparently the arm flailing was a serious matter and not to be taken lightly. As we turned our attention back to the stage, a man stepped up to me from the crowd before us. A normal looking man. A tall, blonde, shaggy haired… could he be cute? looking man.
Hi, I’m Phil… where are you from?
After replying, “Manhattan” and getting back an imitation of how I apparently said “Man-Hat-Tan,” I was intrigued. Two lines in and I had determined Phil seemed to have a sense of humor. He had apparently noticed mine as well by pointing to the group of male Rockettes kicking around next to us and stating that he’d been laughing at them too. This was followed by my dare to go dance with them and by his own backward jump roping mockery of the group. Any man who is confident enough to mock jump rope in front of a girl he’s just met gets a free point from me.
We chatted for a few more minutes, during which Phil asked me if I was still in college and seemed surprised to learn that I was not 22 years old. I seem to get this rather often as I guess I look much younger than my actual age. Phil was originally from Pittsburgh but hadn’t lived in the U.S. for several years since he works in some type of international media with several clients in Asia - not sure what that entails exactly. Given that he doesn’t live or spend too much time in the U.S. it was fairly obvious this wasn’t going anywhere. That coupled with the fact that it was extremely loud and it was difficult to hear led Phil to smile at me after a few minutes, tell me I was cute and it was nice to meet me before he ducked back into the crowd.
I had no real intention of furthering our conversation even though he was both sweet and quite funny but it was nice to have one of those ‘oh yes, THIS is what it’s like to think someone is cute again’ moments. Every girl has these now and then and it reminds us there are men out there we don’t know who are intriguing and worth a second look. Even in a crowd of tank top wearing, fist pumping boys - there are always some normal ones who can pop up out of nowhere. So thank you, International Phil, for reminding me there are plenty of charming boys out there that I have yet to meet….