We Are…The Dancers (By Hour 13)

The sun is rising over the valley and on any typical Saturday morning here in State College a select few gym rats would be running outside in their Under Armour and there’d be women in high heels from the night before (or men, in sneakers) making the long trek of shame back to their dorms. Hungover drinkers would still be hugging the toilet from last night. But this is THON Saturday, and the party is still raging inside the BJC.

The dancers are kicking it old school with some of the best damn dance moves I’ve seen since the “The Gang Dances Their Asses Off” episode of Always Sunny. Man in thong was a little much though.

Right now, they’re eating bagels and yogurt and drinking juice, courtesy of Irving’s and Starbucks. No coffee though, no caffeine. And despite a few yawns, everyone seems to still be physically okay. But Jack Nicholson looked pretty damn good too, right before he slammed an axe through a door and chased his family through a maze.  So, we’ll wait for our story on Matt and the rest of the dancers until breakfast time is over.

Down on the floor though, the scene is still a warzone. There are balloons, beach balls, yo-yo’s, and footballs everywhere. People are chasing each other with water guns. A bagel fell on the floor and was ruined. Utter mayhem. The dancers are soldiers on the front lines against childhood cancer. Soldiers with brightly colored shirts and the ability to dance in mass unison.

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About the Author

Tom Kent

I was born in Virginia Beach, raised in Westfield, NJ, went to college at Penn State, moved to Miami, FL. Peruvian on mom's side and English on my Dad's. I'm a Journalism major and Political Science minor. I do not currently own any reptiles.


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