When of a night that the inimitable music bike is just the second-loudest source of joyful noise, you know you’re in for a special treat.
And when the sonically-dominant font of mellifluous racket is something like two dozen female musicians cranking out hits by such luminaries as Madonna and Lady Gaga on saxophones, trombones, trumpets, a couple of Sousaphones, a drum line, and via their very own shared voices, then, well, you know it’s a gift so extraordinary as to be singularly unprecedented and far more than anyone could possibly deserve.
Yippee for the Filthy FemCorps, huzzah!
To be honest, the annual school dance can feel a bit of a chore, especially on evening that begins all drizzly, but if you make just a bit of an effort with your attitude and outfit, pretty soon, the clouds have parted and the occasion is underway, rolling down three lanes of traffic and a hundred or so decibels of Twisted Sister.
It would have been enough satisfy the aesthetic appetite of anyone to simply have feasted on all that party finery against the backdrop of the almost-as-lovely downtown Seattle, but that was merely an hors d’oeuvre.
For the main course, you got to be immersed in the dish, with horns and reeds all around, topped with glitter and black light face paint, and, as a whipped cream with a cherry on top, fire dancers!
A shout out to the Prom Committee, hip-hip-hooray!
The park shelter managed not to ignite, but, really, that was about the only thing there that wasn’t on fire, so much shimmying and shaking to beat that unbeatable band that even the wallflowers were belles of the ball.
And while there may have been an official King and/or Queen of the event, everyone got to feel like royalty when those sighing angel voices were heard; just like a prayer, I know they took us there, (on bikes, no less, feels like flying), let the choir sing!
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| from Prom 4 by via Bo Ttorff |
Yippee for the Filthy FemCorps, huzzah!
To be honest, the annual school dance can feel a bit of a chore, especially on evening that begins all drizzly, but if you make just a bit of an effort with your attitude and outfit, pretty soon, the clouds have parted and the occasion is underway, rolling down three lanes of traffic and a hundred or so decibels of Twisted Sister.
It would have been enough satisfy the aesthetic appetite of anyone to simply have feasted on all that party finery against the backdrop of the almost-as-lovely downtown Seattle, but that was merely an hors d’oeuvre.
For the main course, you got to be immersed in the dish, with horns and reeds all around, topped with glitter and black light face paint, and, as a whipped cream with a cherry on top, fire dancers!
A shout out to the Prom Committee, hip-hip-hooray!
The park shelter managed not to ignite, but, really, that was about the only thing there that wasn’t on fire, so much shimmying and shaking to beat that unbeatable band that even the wallflowers were belles of the ball.
And while there may have been an official King and/or Queen of the event, everyone got to feel like royalty when those sighing angel voices were heard; just like a prayer, I know they took us there, (on bikes, no less, feels like flying), let the choir sing!
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