A Rockies Excursion: It Begins

I had brought my red backpack that I bought from my brother, the same one I trekked with him through Tibet with. I wore my Timberland's that I just purchased in Manhattan and I set off northwards to Nashville, Tennessee to catch a ride with my friend Sean out to the great Rockies of Colorado.
The short trip of only 6 hours was accompanied of my sister and her future roommate and friend, Laura. They were going to check out their future home of David Lipscomb University. I was going for entirely different reasons. One of the nights we made it out to the amazing Opryland Hotel. A gorgeous vista for all 5 senses. A Garden of Eden concealed in glass. We met up with some other Dothanites. Mike and Joe Kuwalksi, and then we visited this panoramic conservatory. Lights were dim; drinks were filled; and a band began to kick up and play to the middle-aged audience of the cafe that we spilled into. Mike and I jumped out into the midst of the turbulent movement of the too-old-for-a-club, too-young-for-square-dancing crowd and began to dance as though the soles of our feet knew nothing but the cadence of wild buzzing music. Then the others followed. What a night it was. This wasn't the first time such I have made such an appearance at this same cafe in the hotel. Why only a month before, Nathan and I had frequented it during our fireworks orientation, and we made quite a spectacle. I ended up slow dancing with a Tennessee Titan Cheerleader. I even sung in her ear, "Let it be, Let it be" as the band played that famous Beatles tune.
The memories from such an encounter this time led me to believe that there was no telling what kind of suprise you can find on a dancefloor in Nashville, TN. -And surprised I was when out onto the polished planks emerged this short, plump, black lady. Now I must admit that when I dance I believe myself to be quite the irresistible. Placing all pride and arrogance aside, when I move I become an acrobatic Adonis. What woman can resist me when my feet are in a rhythm? I do not dance nasty. I do not hint at one thing that has anything to do with libido. I just dance so that I kindle a few hearts here and there and fuel desire. That's what I do....I fuel desire. So how can I be blamed for what immediately took place? It wasn't my fault. Just nature taking its course. Me dancing while a lady gets carried away. For just then, that short plump black lady ambushes me by my blindside and begans to do what the Vikings used to do, pillage and burn. She assaulted me right there on the dancefloor, in so many gyrations and rhythmic innuedos. I tell you, I never knew short plump black ladies could move so fast and so viciously. What is a guy supposed to do in such situations? Does he go along with her in her animal frenzy or does he do what he feels, shrieking and running away into a corner and curl into a little ball?
Meanwhile, my sister and everyone else was just laughing. Laughing at my own horrible plight! Mike came to the rescue, but even that didn't deter this mad short plump black lady. I didn't want to degrade the short plump black lady so biting my teeth, I bore the what seemed like forever on the dancefloor with her, though not letting her touch me. Later, I tried working my mojo with some younger prettier girls, but they wouldn't have me. I guess they thought they knew who they would have to deal with if they gave in and danced with me. That's the only reason I can come up with to cope with my rejection.
Cockiness: A state of mind when a buffoon gets too much attention every now and then, only from his showy acts of buffoonry, mistaking one kind of attention for another.
Either way, I once again experienced the wonderful world of music in the city of music.
To be continued.....