My name is Patt O’Doyle, and I’m going to start a flash mob. It’s a terrific idea, I know. It came to me a few weeks ago while I was eating a strudel; Flash Mob I thought. And then I finished my strudel and went about my day.
But the next day, I remembered my earlier thought and got to work making the greatest flash mob the world has ever seen.
I found a Wiki “how-to” article on setting up flash mobs, and it broke it down into a few simple steps.
Step One: I set up the choreography. I scoured the internet for hours searching for dance lessons to gain some inspiration. Nothing took, so I just said, “F it” and mashed parts of the “Gangnam Style” and the “Watch Me Whip” videos together. I had heard a few years ago they were both popular dances, so I figured they’d work well together.
Then I thought, Oh wait, I need a song! So, I went on my computer and searched for “good songs.” But my computer ran out of batteries. I couldn’t find the charger so I chose “Get Down on it” because I knew I had the CD lying around somewhere. I figured the song, and the dance mashup would probably work together.
I almost forgot to choose an area, but I eventually settled on the Denver airport. I live in Detroit, but I would settle for nowhere less than what I consider the Mecca for organized travel.
After that, I got so excited I couldn’t read any more of the how-to article! I hope there wasn’t anything else important in it.
I booked my tickets, and I was off!
Now I’m here.
30 seconds till commencement.
I’m standing under the clock in the main lobby. People are streaming all around me, oblivious to the show that’s about to rock their worlds. My trench coat is a bit short on me, but nobody seems to notice the leggings I have on underneath.
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20 seconds till commencement.
I nod to a woman in a trench coat. I don’t recognize her face, but I don’t recognize most people, so I think nothing of it. She nods back. We’re ready.
10 seconds till commencement.
I grab the collar of my coat. It is make or break time.
1 second till commencement.
I am sweating bullets. My fingers are shaking. My head hurts. I have never been more ready for anything in my entire life.
I throw off my trench coat and stand at the ready. Two things immediately become clear to me.
1. I forgot the boombox with the music.
2. I forgot to tell anybody else about the flash mob.
This has quickly turned from a triumphant moment of surprise harmony to perhaps my darkest hour. I contemplate grabbing the trench coat and sprinting for the exit. Maybe I could make a life for myself in Denver.
No.
I created this dance, and I will see it through.
With the resignation of a captain on a beautiful, sinking ship; I launch into act one, which is mostly “Gangnam style” with a “nae nae” or two added in for variety.
People begin to turn and stare.
I ignore them.
My arms swoop and my hips gyrate. I lose myself in my own dancing.
Before I know it, I’m laughing uncontrollably, it’s hard not to when you dance this hard.
I tuck my face into my arm for a dab: perfectly executed. As I pull out my head, my elbow comes away soaked with tears. I didn’t even know I was crying.
I fling back my arms in glee. My leggings rip. I ignore the cold air wafting into my lower regions.
I cock back my arm to complete my dance. It will be my coup de grâce: a triumphant whip followed by eighteen seconds of pensive “Nae Naeing” when I am stopped. I look at my wrist and see it is being held by a TSA agent. Her beady eyes glare at me behind wire-rim glasses and caked-on foundation.
I go to pull my arm away and someone grabs my shoulder. Another, my legs. They’re dragging me from my spot under the clock. People cheer as they carry me away.
I close my eyes to the world. It’s almost like I’m crowd-surfing.