Member-only story
I Miss Dancing
Last night I stopped at a convenience store on my way home. It was late-ish in the evening, and all I had to eat at home was a bag of brussels sprouts and some tortillas. I just wanted a snack, so I headed to the chip aisle.
And there, sitting there like it didn’t mean anything, was the $2 bag of Munchos. This corn chip/potato chip hybrid thing with the perfectly addictive mouth feel. Of course I bought it. Of course I couldn’t wait to tear it open, but not (only) for the reasons you think.
A few years ago, I sat in the passenger seat of my silver Honda Civic while my friend and dance teacher drove. We were on our way from Chicago to Minnesota for an outdoor dance festival in some park.
“I don’t know,” my friend said when she asked me to go with her, “It just says ‘Art Park.’ Like we should know.”
“And you’re teaching there?”
“Yep,” she said, “And dancing in the show at the end of the day.”
“I’m in!”
We took my car on the six hour drive, and packed it with trip snacks, as neither one of us had much money for or interest in highway food. A bag under my feet held a few bananas, a box of gluten-free cookies, and a bag of Munchos. I had never eaten Munchos before that trip.