I learned the electric slide sometime in the early 90s, when I was in high school. It was all the rage. There was this “dance club” that had teen nights about 45 minutes from where I lived, and my friends and I used to pile into a car, drive down there, and dance the night away. We all wanted to learn the “cool new line dance” that everyone was doing.
Kim, Jill and I were the dancers in the group, so we learned it fairly easily. Soon, we’d taught it to the whole cheerleading squad, and even incorporated it into our routine senior year. (Wow! We were so cutting edge!)
When I was a freshman in college, I took a phys ed class called social dance. We learned to waltz, cha cha, and jitterbug, and as we neared the end of the semester, our teacher (one of my favorite professors, Jan Hyatt) talked about the trend of line dancing, and how she wished she knew the electric slide.
“Um, I know the electric slide,” I quietly volunteered.
Next class, I brought in a tape with the music and proceeded to teach my whole class, and my teacher, the electric slide. I became known as “the girl who taught Jan Hyatt the electric slide.”
Recently, I overheard my brother and his fiancee talking about their upcoming wedding, trying to decide what music they wanted played at the reception.
“Oh, but your sister likes the electric slide,” I heard.
“Your sister is kind of over the electric slide,” I said.
Really. I don’t mind it. I don’t care if they play it at their wedding, and if they do, I’m sure I’ll get up and dance
It’s been well over ten years that I’ve been doing this dance…at high school dances, sorority functions, weddings…I don’t particularly like it anymore, but I still feel oddly compelled to do it. Mostly because when I see people line up to do it at a wedding, it is usually sorely in need of leadership. My point was proven over the weekend, at the wedding I went to with Rand.
The music came on, and I hesitated.
“Go on,” Rand said.
I sighed.
I took a position on the end, did the most basic version that exists. No fancy steps or turns. When it was over, I came off the floor.
“You were right,” he said. “Everyone was following you.”
It’s my curse.