
Mind you, I've made some concessions. I will dance now, with very little prompting and (almost) no alcohol. I make no claims to my skill level, but at least no one points and laughs. Or at least, they politely wait until my back is turned until they do so. I have lessened my alcohol consumption, to better deal with $10 gin & tonics (!).
Which is all by way of explaining why last Friday, I found myself sitting in a chartered bus with my friends, furtively drinking vodka from a water bottle as we navigated our way through the dirty streets of Hollywood, and I'm now writing my second post in a row about clubbing. UCLA views it as its solemn responsibility to turn its grad students into alcoholics, because grad school just wouldn't be hard enough if you weren't fending off substance-abuse problems at the same time.

Being the adventurous sort, I gamely threw myself onto the dance floor. "Not to worry," I told myself, "these are fellow nerds, and will accept me as their own." Well, they didn't shun me, but I clearly have a few lessons in dance-floor etiquette to learn. Like, how exactly one begins dancing with other people. I witnessed couples (previously strangers) dancing, so I know it's possible. But nobody came up and volunteered to dance with me, so I'm not sure what I'm doing wrong.

Not long thereafter, normal dancing having recommenced, the charmingly attired fellow visible at your left appeared on stage. As we walked closer to me, though, I became confused -- I couldn't see his legs, but it became increasingly clear that he was not, in fact, on the stage. Rather, I ascertained as he began to dance immediately in front of me, he was on stilts. The man turned out to be a constant sight that evening: frequently dancing but also, even more frequently, clambering about on random edifices and structures, stilts still attached.
I admit to being more than a little surprised by the evening's spectacle. The dance floor dripped with talent. In addition to the aforementioned acts

But, of course, the night had to end. We were ushered outside, piled into a bus, and returned to campus. And all I have left is the memories. And, of course, these pictures.
It was totally worth the four hours of sleep I got before my six hour hike the next morning.


