There comes a point during a long, long, late-night dance session where you and your partner are basically holding each other up, barely conscious except for the dancing, but still going. The lights are down so low you can barely make out the names scrawled in marker on the scattered plastic cups by the water table; most of those names are of people who've already gone home. The music is dripping through the air like molasses and your feet are just sort of trailing lazily across the wooden floor, and someone's singing "Summertime," and then you walk outside and the night is warm and good.
This is my second time doing this. The first was a long time ago, almost 4 years ago, back in Connecticut. I've got to do this again.
My legs were shaking as I walked down the stairs on the way out. I'm probably going to be in a bit of pain tomorrow morning, but nothing that won't fix itself in time to do it again at Piers Park and then again in Brookline. I never thought that dancing would be a good way for me to clear my head - it started as a "let me learn how to deal with physical contact!" exercise (and a bit of a "let me figure out how to get lots of hyperactive energy out!" in the case of lindy), but it's... really nice now that I can consistently stop the chatter in my brain when I'm out on the floor. As it turns out, this is very useful.
I wonder if there are any 24-hour diners in the Boston area that have parking. I could use some food.