Soggy Old Sunday? Just Add A Bit Of Crazy

Well, one of the last things I expected to be doing last weekend was a train dance. Yeah, a train dance. Dancing whenever a train goes past… to the amusement of a hundred or more strangers.

Alright, maybe I’m abusing creative licence by applying the term ‘dance’ to the funny bobbing up and down motion we were doing. It was more… umm… think squats with goofy grins. Or Tweedle dum, Tweedle dee & Tweedle me. Coz there were three of us (I’m not crazy enough to pull off something like that on my own) – me and two guys I’d only met that morning.

Tweedle dee & Tweedle dum

Tweedle dee & Tweedle dum

Tweedle me

Tweedle me

          To set the scene: I run a market stall once a month selling my creative stuffs

Creative stuffs

Creative stuffs

 

It’s held on the second floor of a carpark next to a local railway station. In theory it’s the perfect setting: undercover, plenty of room, well ventilated… Until you get hit by a trilogy of shitty elements: it’s raining and you discover leaks above your spot, there’s a fat-arse SUV with its gut overhanging into your space on one side, and a food stall is relocated next to you on the other. Oh that last one wouldn’t be so bad, I hear you say. Yeah sure, if you like the smell of bacon & eggs & whatever the hell that thing is, all sizzling on a barbeque and wafting onto you and your stock. Would be perfect for some. But for those of us who would rather pluck out every nose hair than catch a whiff – let alone breathe it in all day – it’s a recipe for agony.

Kel's reaction to bacon

Kel’s reaction to bacon

So anyway, I set myself up (a longer process than usual, as I swore at each leak I discovered, and praised the cellophane wrap protecting my handmade cards), all the while feeling watched. Not a creepy kind of watched, thankfully. Just observed. By my new neighbours across the way: two guys selling auto-care products.

Hmm… young, single guys? I wondered briefly, interestedly (is that even a word? There’s no wiggly red line of shame appearing under it, so must be…). Coz you never know… they sounded like they could be.

But no. Wasn’t to be this time.

Sorry, Mum.

No son-in-law just yet.

What I did discover though, on getting to know these two over the course of the day, was a couple of middle age mates who bring a sense of fun and mischief wherever they go. Like a couple of court jesters on the loose. They came up with the train dance as a response to the slow, cold morning (so much for being weeks away from summer). And soon enough, in contrast to my previous ways, I found myself joining in.

You see, not that long ago I was one of those shy girls with more than a little social anxiety, who would sooner die than join in some public display of mild insanity. But hey, you change your life and then suddenly (it seems) start to find yourself doing interesting things in surprising situations. This was one of those situations.

“So what are the rules, then?” I grinned at them.

“Umm…  It’s gotta be when the trains pull in or out”

“Regardless of whether you have a customer”

“And we’ve all gotta do it”

Cool. Simples. Goodbye customers for the day!

I imagined people backing away slowly or giving our stalls a wide berth lest they catch the loony bug. But then I remembered how much I’ve appreciated the random acts of silliness I’ve seen over the years. The people who make a fool of themselves to bring a smile to others or, even better, amuse themselves first and then everyone else as a result. A bit of contagious crazy. I was up for that.

So there it began. Our rainy, shitty day soon became a fun event as we carried on & called out, laughing and pointing to each other when a train rolled past every 15-20mins. Tweedle dee would get caught while explaining his product to customers. Tweedle me got caught discussing fantasy books one time, and juggling money another.

Occasionally rules adjusted:

“Let’s synchronise!”

 “Nah let’s get it so there’s one up one down and one half way.”

“Speed up if the train’s pulling out & slow down if it’s pulling in.”

And while we received plenty of strange looks and occasional frowns from market shoppers, we also triggered plenty of smiles. A couple of other stallholders even joined in once or twice.

Chatting later on, we agreed spontaneity is the key. Some things are a success purely because they’re unplanned. You embrace a whim and get creative. You have fun, make friends, and bring a little crazy to life in a way that brightens everyone’s day. (And in my case, balance out that chocolate I’d downed earlier…)

By the afternoon, my potential ordeal of a day had turned into a great day. I managed not to scare all my customers away and made some sales. My stuff stayed dry. I survived the food smell waftage. Just.

Soon all that was left were the farewells to my new friends and the long pack up process for me (which I don’t mind; it’s kinda therapeutic).

Then just as they were pulling out to drive off, a train pulled in. I glanced across, still linked to the sound as I’d been throughout the day. Nah, I thought, that’s it, day’s done. I can’t do it alone.

But in the middle of everything, the car stopped.

They both got out.

And together we all did one final train dance – grinning from ear to ear.

Last train dance for the Tweedle 3

Last train dance for the Tweedle 3

 

Then our day was done.

 

 

 

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