You walk into an elegant social club: chandeliers, leather chairs, paintings of dead white guys everywhere, the works. A full swing orchestra is playing Basie. Around you are a dozen women dressed to the nines in ballgowns and high heels.
You think, "This sucks. When will someone who can DANCE get here?"
Then you head to a chair to mope until your dancer friends arrive.
Call it "lindymyopia."
[Picture of me with my friend Celia taken by Jerry at The Players Club last night.]