Now that we’re half way through 2020, I think I speak for all of us when I say, “Let’s burn this mother down.” But there is a light at the proverbial tunnel. For me, at least. And vicariously for you, dear reader, because I’m about to attend Dance Nationals in Pigeon Forge, Tenn. Let that sink in for a moment before you continue.
Excited by the column fodder possibilities? You should be! Not only will I be reporting on tarted-up toddlers, tweens, and teenagers, tapping their toes and twerking their tushes, but also the moms, who are often more bedazzled and dramatic than their daughters. It will be awkward with everyone in masks and attempting to social distance, but I think the safety measures will only increase the intense eye makeup applications and maudlin contemporary routine mishaps. Good times!
And should the unthinkable occur and the competition fail to produce any hilarious antics, there’s always the setting. I’ll be in the Vegas of the Appalachians, friends – home to Dollywood, Paula Dean’s Lumberjack Feud Dinner Show, an upside down museum called Wonderworks, and enough ninja weapon stores, Putt-Putt courses and go-kart tracks to make many a manchild joyously weep. My keen observational skills are about to be unleashed in one of the prime people-watching places on the planet! In the high heat and humidity of summer in the south! During a global pandemic! Be still, my beating heart!
Yes, this year has been terrible so far, but I truly believe it’s going to turn around. Stay tuned for next week’s edition. We’ll take a ride on a Smoky Mountains dance extravaganza!