Transit Dance

I suppose that when you ride the Metro at two in the morning on a Saturday night, you should expect to see strange goings on, but I was wholly unprepared for what I witnessed last weekend.
On the orange line, just past L’Enfant Plaza I watched as two young guys did their very best to seduce their female companion with what appeared to be a dance off. A sexy dance off, on a moving metro train.
At first things started off slow, and by slow I mean like slow-jams grinding on your lap slow. The girl was sitting in the front of the train and the two guys took turns giving her lap dances. Then, one of the guys, presumably overwhelmed with lust/drunkenness/showmanship, proceeded to take of his shirt in what seemed like a very practiced manner. Amateurs they were not.
For the next five to eight minutes the guys took turns showcasing their dance skills. It might not have been the fanciest footwork or jazz hands I’ve ever seen, but what they lacked in coordination they more than made up for in sheer I-can’t-believe-this-is-actually-happening late night brilliance.
And what was the big ending to this public transit mobile dance catastrophe? As I am an ardent fan of America’s Best Dance Crew, I should have known what to expect. Both guys, shirtless and shirted, joined together for a grand finale synchronized routine that involved stomping, jumping and such an awe-inspiring amount of ass shaking that on my walk home all I could think about was just how many hours these two must have spent practicing their moves before finally debuting it on the orange line for an audience of one very lucky lady and eight tired, drunk strangers.