Carrie: Possessed by Rock’N’Roll

The “dance hall” looked like someone’s finished but ramshackle basement.  It was actually part of a private military veterans club in a very small town that shall go nameless.  The bar dominated the front portion of the room with NASCAR as the viewing choice for the multiple television sets strategically placed surrounding the bar.  There was not much food to be bought, so smoking was allowed and most people took advantage of their freedom of indoor indulgement.

The classic rock’n’roll band that was booked for the evening arrived about 90 minutes before show time to get set-up and fiddle around with the sound.  And Carrie was waiting for them.  She stood at the back of the dance hall portion of the room, but below the bar where everyone else was drinking, smoking, laughing, and keeping a bent eye on NASCAR. Carrie was focused on the band.

She approved of where and how they placed their equipment. Carrie was a regular here.  She attended every dance, regardless of the season or weather.  Transportation was a problem for her, living in the countryside and a good two miles from the club.  But that never deterred her from attending. She would walk roadside on the thin two-lane highway until someone she knew offered her a ride into town.  For the return trip after midnight, someone she knew from the bar would take her home. Carrie had a tried and true system that worked for her.

Admiring the various band members, Carrie said she’d be the first one on the dance floor that night and that she’d never leave it until the band was done. She’d neither drink alcohol (it would just knock her out) nor sit down. Carrie was there for her own special needs.  She was experienced.

It was an early gig and the band started straight up at 8pm.  As promised, Carrie hit the dance floor immediately.  For a long time she commanded the floor alone. The rest of the crowd needed “spirited” adult beverages to prime their engines before venturing forth. But it was Carrie who would really crank them up.

The first set went 50 minutes and Carrie danced every single minute.  She shimmied and shaked to the beat.  She bent over and touched the floor while wagging her rumpus maximus in rhythm.  Carrie wore a brilliant red mesh cowboy hat, adorning her fashionably pink shirt, jeans, and white sweater. And she moved with determination. Laughing, singing along with the songs, pointing to the watching crowd, Carrie commanded the dance floor.  All 50 minutes by herself. She never sat down. Not once.

Following a break, Carrie opened the second set with the band. She hit overdrive as soon as the band kicked off with an upbeat tune. Her enthusiasm was now reaching and enticing the remainder of the crowd as they joined her in rocking and rolling.  Again, she’d twist to the left and then to the right.  She’d bend over and do some kind of digging thing as if she were a dog getting ready to bury a bone. Carrie worked the dance floor.

Soon she had people dancing with her.  Until now, it had been Carrie by herself  while others were dancing as couples or in small friendly groups.  Yet, she remained the center of attention.  Never letting up, driving to the music, grimacing at the drummer to drive it harder and harder.  Carrie was possessed by rock’n’roll.

Following the second set break, the band returned for the third and final set. It was to be her triumph.  In this third set, the entire place was basically on fire with heat, alcohol, and good times.  Carrie had become the “Doll of the Ball”.  She was dancing with biker dudes who exchanged their hankie-head adornments with her red mesh cowboy hat.  They would laugh and scream and shake and bake.  She’d dance with other guys too, but remained firmly set on her ultimate goals with the band.  The band’s drummer to be exact.

Midway through the third set, she had finagled her way off the dance floor and through the front line of the band to “air drum” with the drummer.  She’d accent hits on the cymbal when he did.  She’d do low rolls when he did on the bottom floor toms.  She had achieved. She was now drumming in a rock’n’roll band. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to, CARRIE!

The place went nuts! Carrie had transformed this little private club where drinks were a-buck-a-beer and shots were doubles for two bucks into a rock’n’roll emporium.  The club manager just had to book the band again because they’d have not had this much excitement since, well, no one could remember. It was Carrie’s dream come true night.

After the band closed with two AC/DC screamers, Carrie quickly said she had enjoyed herself and departed. One of her friends living out her way was leaving and she had to take advantage of getting a ride home.  Carrie was tired, having never sat down since when she arrived prior to the band setting up at 6:30pm.  She danced through all three sets and stood during the band breaks talking with friends. It was now past midnight.

At 85 years old, Carrie had outlived three husbands and needed to get some rest.

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Copyright: Curl Publishing Inc. Cannot be republished or redistributed without the written or implied consent of Curl Publishing Inc.

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