200 for 30...

Hello and good morning to all. My second post here, and it might be hard for you all to share in the joy of it.

Let me give you a little background first. Here in Christchurch I have a part time job at a Workingmens' Club. Basically this is a bar where people can become members in order to get cheap alcohol. The people that tend to join are generally older men and women, retirees, or blue collar workers that work hard and drink four jugs of beer on their way home to their wives after a hard day of work. That's the main business. There are also several different halls that can be rented out for birthdays and other celebratory events.

Last night I had to work at one of these events. In theory it was a thirtieth birthday, but in practise it was something a little different. Word on the street had it that there were some 200 invites sent out, but after an hour and a half only fifteen had showed. How gutted would you be that you had sent out 200 invitations, and not even 20 people showed? I was standing there waiting for something to happen, and decided that they were probably all IT nerds that don't drink or dance or know how to do anything fun (no offence to the majority of IT workers that work hard and play harder, of course). In actual fact, I was only partially correct.

Backtracking a bit here.... On Thursday nights there is a new-age dance evening called Ceroc. This is basically people that have no rhythm or desire to get rhythm trying to put together tango, salsa, hip-hop, and all other sorts of dancing into one great big cacauphony of a dance.

Back to the "birthday party". While half the guests were probably the IT nerds I mentioned, the other half belonged to the Ceroc dance troupe that invade the club every Thursday. Try to imagine a man, dressed in a black leather jacket, white jeans, black pointed shoes, grey tshirt tucked into said white jeans (which in turn accentuated his rather jelly belly) shaking his thang to early nineties house music, and this is what I had to deal with for three hours last night. Oh, and none of them were drinking. SO THEY WERE DOING THIS SOBER!!! What reason, in all of the world, would someone put themselves through this sort of thing without being pissed to the gills? I have yet to figure this one out...

Please, answers on a sheet of A4.