Just People

Most days at Youth Specialties, the conference that MediaShout has me working that has been a regular of ours for several years, consist of flying frisbees and beach balls, free sno cones and popcorn, grown people riding around on tricycles or unicycles, loud music, raining nerf balls, and busy exhibit hall hours. Today was not that day. We had 2 hours of good business first thing this afternoon followed by six hours of virtually nothing at all. At least in Los Angeles, the exhibitors put on flag football games in the aisles and beach volleyball across the hall. Today, though? Let's just say I consumed more free candy than I should have, checked Facebook and my email compulsively, read every single article on CNN.com, and tried my level best improve my solitaire skills (Even then, after over an hour I'm looking at 3 for 17). The last 3 hours were torture for all four of us in booth watching the minutes creep by. When the closing bell finally rang, we wasted no time closing down and heading over to Rock Bottom Brewery for the third time in the past two days.

After dinner, we left the brewery and headed back across Fountain Square to walk the three blocks back to our hotel when we saw costumes and heard music. The city was holding a free "Monster Mash" dance party on the square for any and everyone who wanted to be there. I looked around and saw the homeless veteran whom I'd seen sitting outside the convention center earlier in the day dancing in the center of a circle made of young, old, black, white, costumed, painted, and happy people. After he had circled once or twice, hands raised, booty shaking, with a smile on his face, a young black kid high fived him and began break dancing and doing flips to Lady Gaga pounding through the sound system. A little spiderman who couldn't have been more than 4 or 5, after watching intently, entered the circle, got on his hands and knees, and started spinning sloppy circles with legs kicking every which way. My new buddy Barry pointed out the Moses, complete with stone tablets and wooden rod, across the square. I saw a reincarnated and slightly overweight Michael Jackson. I laughed. I danced.

And then the deejay played the Electric Slide.

I wish you all could have seen the dozens and dozens of people, some there with the youth conference, some who had panhandled for lunch, some teenage moms with babies, some with gray hair, some who could barely walk, and still others who could not have been more "white," join together in near perfect rhythm and do the electric slide as if Ric Silver himself taught us how. In those moments, despite our countless differences, despite generation and language gaps, despite the many economic and social universes represented, we were all there together. We danced. We laughed. We felt like friends. We shared life with each other for a few beautiful moments under the stars in downtown Cincinatti. I've never had a Halloween like it. Come to think of it, I don't know that I've ever had a single night like that.

Lady Gaga and freaky costumes aside, that's what the church should be. Those people represented so many different ways of life but we all enjoyed one another because the music gave us something outside of ourselves to move to. We got to take part in something bigger than our own persons, as trivial as it might seem, and laugh together as if nothing in the world separated us. Tonight we weren't black or white or poor or rich or druggies or prudes or bullies or nerds or failures or leaders or skinny or fat or strangers... we were just people. Happy, dancing people.

My Halloween rocked.