Outside the entrance to the Homecoming Dance, standing bedazzled under stadium lights and the cool night sky, dozens upon dozens of students were lined up in a scattered exhibition of various dresses, tuxedos, high heels and sparkles, all spruced up for the big event. Friends were reuniting and screaming together, ladies adjusting the waists of their gowns, and men combing their hair while dates stood nervously next to each other in line. The air was filled with anticipation as such anticipation pulled limousines and wagons into the drive loop, and the dance within was sneaking its way to the front through the laser machines and subtly turned-up boom boxes blasting party music in the background.
Past the ticket booths and breathalyzer tests was a wide cafeteria area set by dim lights and crowds of people wandering about looking for action. Tables bedecked with glowsticks sticking out of blocks of wood and spare paraphernalia stood adjacent to the photo ops and perfumed airbrush tattoos. Card games and ping pong tables clacked on the partier’s way through the glitter and glow to the candy and soda, and then there was the dancefloor.
The gym, bathed in ultra-violet light, reverberated with the sounds of the DJ playing “Toxic”, “Cotton-Eyed Joe” and the infamous “California Girls”. Also reverberating was a massive horde of teens letting loose, waving around glowsticks and foam and jumping up to the beats of every song as they yelled along with the lyrics as loud and proud as their lungs could muster. Circles of dancers kicking and macarena-ing were formed. A pit of partiers were formed at the center of the gym so enveloped by the loud music that no mortal soul could escape without sacrifice, as those poor souls had tossed aside the glowsticks and glowrings that scattered the floor when they gave themselves to the music with wild abandon. Smaller groups passed around ounces of booze (or at least I’m pretty sure they slipped ounces of booze) that nothing but their sheer craziness was left to testify for. (they were pretty crazy)
In the other, better-lit gym, a handful of people were pleasantly tossing around giant inflatable balls like people who knew where they should really be.
Outside the high school, away from the dance, the night simmered in as silence regained its posture, slowly but surely filling in the spaces once occupied by noise. A pitch, peaceful black permeated every inch uncovered by lamps of headlights. It settled for an hour or so, liminal, and so eerily heavy in contrast to the chaos before that no cricket had thought to break it. But slowly again, as the activities of the dance began to wear people down, ex-partygoers with loose ties around their necks and bare feet sore from their high heels started to trickle out of the school, rubbing their eyes.
Solemn goodbyes were said as the dance ended, flocks dispersed, and many left with the begrudging but satisfied bit of knowledge that they would sleep in tomorrow. Memories were made, friendships were rekindled, and it was overall a good night.
Sammy the Senior says Happy Homecoming, Greyhounds, and have a good Fall Break.
(PS – If you had a bad time, Dairy Queen is open until 10pm. Ask for the depression sundae. They’ll know what to do.)
