I love to dance. I am a terrible dancer. I often tell people I dance like I would suspect Taylor Swift Dances; awkward and very white. But after moving to Indiana, and having met very few people my age, I felt it was time to broaden my horizons and go dancing. Jason and I were told of a place that plays only oldies and goodies and by God, we had to find it. Flashbacks on the Landing was a blast. We came. We danced. We conquered. They played 80’s dance music (that you would recognize on the radio even if you didn’t know the words or who sang it) until about 10:30pm when all the moms started to leave. Then they pumped up the best of the 90’s and early 2000’s. The best part? There is no dance moves to match the song like the dougie or juju on that beat. Which means I can dance with the best of them. I especially like to get up on the top level of the dance floor because I can people watch and dance at the same time. Jason likes it because he feels less claustrophobic and he can see the tiles on the floor light up. After dancing up a storm, Taylor Swift moves and all, we decided to head home. We barely made it out the door when we were hit with the sweet and savory scent of barbecue.
We walked towards the magical food truck and could not decide what to order because everything sounds damn good when you’ve been drinking, dancing, and sweating. I ended up with the biggest burrito of my life appropriately called, “WASTED”. It was stuffed with fresh cut fries, chicken strips, mozzarella cheese sticks topped with house made marinara stuffed inside a cheddar jalapeño wrap. Jason got the “NOTORIOUS P.I.G.” which were the best ribs I’ve ever consumed.
I have never been as happy as I was eating food truck delights on the hood of my car outside a throwback bar at 2:30am.
The last things I said before I went to sleep? “I regret not getting the ribs”. Still true.