Hey there, Ms. New Booty

To be more involved at Appalachian, and to make the most of my college career, I joined the A.P.P.S. Heritage Council. One small section of the overall A.P.P.S. organization, the Heritage Council is responsible for planning events that celebrate Appalachian culture. We schedule contra dances, story tellers, fiddle conventions, documentaries, and the ilk. It's something in which I have loved being involved, and it's honestly something for which I have a great passion. Southern culture to me is fascinating, and there's this piece of me that wants to gobble up everything possible.

That's not the point.

Tonight I was in charge of hospitality for our second contra dance. It only required making coffee and getting dinner for the band. Nothing difficult. Plus, I got in for free.

I went to one contra dance last year. One. A lady I was partnered with sort of ruined the evening as she was pushing, pulling, shoving, and tossing me across the floor. That might be a tad exaggerated, but it wasn't something I considered "enjoyable." Tonight, however, I was with a group of people that share the same interests as I do (they are all a part of the Heritage Council), and I honestly think the fact that I'm not a freshman was a major factor in the amount of fun I had.

That's not the point, either.

At one point during the night I had to find a new partner. It reminded me of middle school dances and how people wander aimlessly about in hopes of being chosen. That's what I found myself doing until this guy asked me to dance with him. He was good looking. I mean, like, really, really, unbelievably good looking. And he smelled nice. And he had a great smile. And he was taller than I was. And he was surprisingly light on his feet. Overall, if I were to give him a kindergarden grade, it would be S1. Though, in this case, instead of the 'S' standing for "Superb" it meant "Smokin'."

So we danced.

But halfway through the line I took a good, hard look at his face. I had seen him somewhere before, but with all the twirling it was hard to think straight.

So we danced some more.

By the end of the song I was racking my brain thinking of every guy I ran into last year. And then it hit me.

This guy, so wonderfully charming was David.

The snot-nosed, drunk musician who pinned me against the wall at my first party.

Fail.