Getting in touch with your inner stripper

A jam-packed Minneapolis Light Rail is not where I expected to find a laugh. Indeed, just a few minutes before I started howling with the giggles, I was panicking to find my business-card-size paper ticket as the hulking policeman (flak jackets and all!) went up and down the central aisle with his cohort checking that each person paid the proper fare (important note here: no one usually checks your rail tickets. It's basically an honor system... that is until the police board the train).

So after breathing a sigh of relief that my (valid) ticket was nestled snug in my pocket, and then proudly showing it to the intimidating officer, my colleague Michelle and I were happy just to have peace and quiet.

You see, we were at the end of a LONG day of traversing the city looking for trendy and affordable hot spots to host the 60th RNA Annual Conference's offsite events in September 2009 (a week-long meeting we'll host/run). We'd walked miles that day, including a 2-hour stint at the Mall of America at the end of the evening, and we were pooped. The police drama only exhausted us further (luckily, we didn't end up like the poor fellow who obviously had chanced not paying his fare this go round).

No sooner than the policemen had exited the train (poor sap in tow), a star was born. In the car ahead of us, a young man—definitely in touch with his feminine side—stood up and started to shimmy. It started with one hand on a pole and a slow hip circle, and then he picked up steam from there. His single hand looping around a pole turned into two. Hip circles became hippie shakes and before we knew it, high kicks were flying. Just when we thought we'd seen it all, Mr./Ms. Superstar really got in touch with his inner stripper and began pumping the floor for all it was worth.

Just as soon as it started, it ended. And then it started again. And then it ended again. Superstar man must have danced for us at least five or six times. I finally found some sense after three or so performances and dug around my bag for my camera, which luckily has a video setting. Sadly, I missed his best moves (he came out strong and fizzled a little in the end). But, you can get a taste of the fun in this short clip:

I don't think I've laughed that hard in a long time... me and the 50 or so other passengers in the immediate vicinity. Hats off to you, Mr./Mrs. Light Rail Diva!