"Hi we're dancers"

OK so Ms. Anonymous is insistent that I write a post about this. Actually it was Tristan that promised the girls to write, but he later relinquished that task to me. SOB!

So I am seated at my cubicle one Friday afternoon when I hear the phone ring. “Sen!” goes the party on the other line, and I know then that it is none other than Tristan. He asks if I want to join him and Monica later that evening at a Jazz Club. Sounds interesting, so I agree to meet with them, solo, because elusive Emma came down with illness and couldn’t make it out.

We roam around Dundas Square, where Monica runs into her salsa dance teacher, who laughs at me for not owning a cell phone. We head to the Eaton Centre and peruse several cell phone shops, but I was insistent that I did not want one. Subsequent to that we head over to Front St., to the Japanese restaurant at which we’d celebrated Jane’s birthday. Unfortunately, waiter Jared wasn’t there, but the guy serving us this time – Moby - was just as good. OK it wasn’t really Moby, just a little bald guy with horn-rimmed glasses.

The three of us continue our escapade. Seems that Tristan can’t find the Jazz Club, so we wander over to the Harbourfront/Queen’s Quay area. There we were cavorting by a water fountain, when we are approached by two scantily-clad Latino girls who looked to be in their mid-20s. They asked if we could take a picture of the two of them by the fountain. Of course being young red-blooded males we are more than happy to oblige, while Monica wanders off to a bench in the distance.

Take 1. Take 2. Take 3. Still, they are not content. After four re-shoots they are finally satisfied. We exchange pleasantries, and learn they are from Mississauga and Oakville respectively, and that they are here for a night out on the town. They ask what we are up to - “just wandering around the city, nothing planned.” The Latinas tell us they are heading to the nearby Docks nightclub, and say we should come by too. Tristan said we’d think about it. In retrospect this exchange seems to blur the lines between friendly small talk and coming-on-to-us. Nonetheless, we resisted their charms.

We head to the lakefront. The sun had just set, and there the three of us are facing the lake, basking in the breeze, enjoying the solace of the water, when giggling and shouting disrupts the peaceful din. We turn over and notice six girls of about 17-18 or so causing quite a commotion by an adjacent picnic table – yelling at passers-by, giggling etc. “Let’s go talk to them” says Tristan. "I can't do this alone, I need a wingman." At first I balk (at 6 vs. 2), despite the persistent prodding by both Monica and Tristan, so Tristan goes up to them solo. But then I hear the state of Connecticut mentioned, which immediately evokes my interest), and so I join Tristan, leaving Monica in quiet solitariness.

“So you guys are from Connecticut? I was there too.”
“Oh ya? When?”
“For about four months last year. In Stamford. Whereabouts are you from?”
“Umm.. Stamford.”
“Oh how how do you like it there?”

BUT it turns out she was just pulling leg – they were all from Toronto. A coy one! I asked if they had just come back from a Bar Mitzvah and had a few drinks, and one of the girls responded “Do we look like we’re 12?” I dunno, they seemed pretty high, and the talkative girl looked kinda Jewish. And when you hit a certain age (21 in my case), anyone visibly younger than you just looks like a kid.

Well we later learn that they were all dancers – but NOT of the exotic kind - though one of the girls (Pandora) I correctly guessed was Polish, so that WOULD make her a Pole Dancer. =D I wish I had used that line, that was clever.

Eventually the conversation comes back to us. Tristan points to me and says “THIS GUY has a card” (despite my insistence that I have a name.) So they insisted on my card and I handed a couple out, and they glance over it.

“What’s actuarial?” someone pipes.
“Have you seen Along Came Polly?” Pause. Some Yes/ Some No.
“I’m that guy.”

And they actually seemed intrigued and inquired a lot about my line-of-work. At one point they erupted in giggles when I explained the cumbersome exam process and used the expression “examining body” to describe the SOA. I didn’t think telling people the contingencies involved in their inevitable death would be that intriguing or amusing. Now Tristan says I should leverage that.

Somehow the conversation gets really silly after that, and the loquacious leader of the pack starts giving naming her gals after the Ninja turtles. Well I learned two actual names, Panadora and Laura. Hahhaa. At that point she had run out of Italian Renaissance painters, so two were designated Shredder and Master Splinter. I feel sorry for Splinter, hope that wasn't personal. :(

Well that’s all I can recall of our exchange. If Panadora or Laura or whoever else want to chip in with their site of the story, do comment. I also hope you become life-long groupies of our blog. :)

Also the irony of the night: Our first exchange was with two older girls who, given their skanky forwardness, actually could have been strippers. Later that evening we encountered six slightly younger girls who claimed to be dancers/strippers, but looked far too sweet and innocent to ever be so.