… is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call the Twilight Zone. ~ Rod Serling

One of the things we really enjoy about the Georgian Triangle is the variety and frequency of live music events. It’s one of our favourite outings.

Last night we took our guest to a local venue that offers live entertainment every week. The thing about this area is that kick off is early. Like 7 pm. So we arrive after 8 and the place is hopping. People eating, drinking, mingling and dancing. We find a shared table near the dance floor with a few familiar regulars. I’m the DD so drinks are ordered but it’s soda for me.

The bar is a midrange place that attracts a mature crowd. Tonight’s band is a blues genre made up of weathered dudes jamming with a passion. All but one are wearing hats … prop or balding disguise?? They have the dance floor filled as they belt out a bluesy mix of vocals and harmonica. Our timing wasn’t great. Arriving after 8 we hear a couple of tunes before the band takes a short break. Good time to converse without the noise.

When the band returns the dance floor fills quickly. In my uber sober state I’m riveted by the heterogeneous human condition. I think I’m the youngest person in the room. Are these my peers? My observation continues.

Out on the dance floor there are a few familiar characters:

The Belly Dancer – dresses in her usual spiffy attire including heels, sexy top and the Collingwood staple blingy glitzy belt, she sways and undulates her hips as she sashays across the floor with her hands overhead wrists and hands twirling sensually; she’s moving to her own beat oblivious to the others or the music.

The Washed Up Running Back (named by Rudy) – a sly smirk under a mop of shaggy greyish hair and generally disheveled overall in appearance this infamous local pops up at most events we attend. He uses crutches to get around and bobs happily to the music. Lately we’ve seen him bobbing with “Elaine”; aptly named for the Seinfeld character who’s jerky dance moves entertained us for years. This Elaine has a hippy spirit and her flowing outfits and frizzy mane move in time with her convulsive dance moves and erratic arm flinging gestures. Elaine and The Running Back are in a tango of bounce and dart movement. Like two cats trapped in a pillow case.

The rest of the dancers are a mixture of shuffle, sway and gyrate. Everyone is moving at a different tempo. I’m sure my wonderment is noticeable. I could be immersed in the dancing throng. Liquid courage is all that’s lacking.

We head out around 10:30 pm. It’s getting late in the twilight zone.