Let’s Get Ready to Polka!

You know you had a good night when it starts in a wrestling ring and ends on a polka floor.

Why was I in a wrestling ring? Sadly, it had nothing to do with me hitting anyone with a chair or elbowing someone in the face. Luckily, it had nothing to do with me getting thrown onto a table or taking anabolic steroids. I was there to sing the national anthem. Something that is surprisingly hard to do. Those high notes are high. Luckily, it was the type of crowd that loves to cheer for the Star Spangled Banner. I held out a long note for “freeeeeeeeee” and the applause was overwhelming.

Totally. Freaking. Awesome.

Not only did I get to sing for an appreciative audience, I also got to enjoy me some pro wrestling. Which is way more entertaining than you would think.

Oh, and I got to put my buddy Sean in a head lock.

A very, very blurry head lock.

I think that the highlight of the evening was watching the “Canadian” wrestle some guy with the name Moonshine in his name. Oh yeah, and Moonshine was an overweight dude wearing overalls. And no shirt.

Note to self: next time you partake of Pro Wrestling, bring a real camera.

The picture doesn’t really do it justice, but the “Canadian” was a dude wearing spandex with Canadian flags on them. He also had a Canadian flag. Mounted on a hockey stick. It was pretty much just as awesome as you are currently imagining. Perhaps even more so. Apparently, being Canadian makes you a villain and, thus, the audience boos accordingly. I’m a contrarian, though, so I cheered for him.

I booed pretty much everyone else, though. That’s just good fun.

The audience was primarily made up of old school Somerville folks. And pre-teen boys and their slightly bemused Somerville/Cambridge liberal Dads. The people watching was almost as good as the wrestling watching. And that’s really saying something.

My appetite for fun thoroughly whetted, I met up with Kristian and his cousin to head over to the Polish American Club for a polka party.

Yes, you heard that right. A polka party.

Words cannot describe how much fun I had dancing to polka music last night. If you think an evening of polka isn’t fun, let me tell you this: you haven’t been to the right polka parties, my friends.

I bet you haven’t been to any polka parties. You don’t know what you’ve been missing.

My words fail me, so I’m going to summarize. There was polka music. There were people in crazy outfits. There was a lot of dancing. There was a polka version of James Brown(ski)’s “I Feel Good.” I cut a rug. I cut a lot of rugs. I cut rugs with several small children who were probably up waaaaay past their bedtimes. There were pierogies, but we didn’t get there in time to eat them. I danced some more. Incredibly enough, all of this fun was achieved with the help of only one adult beverage. And the kids weren’t really drinking (lightweights!).  I guess that polka really is just that fun.

Oh yeah, and my Dad and I tried to start a polka mosh pit but we all ended up pogoing instead. What? You think it’s weird to hang out with your Dad while dancing to polka and singing songs about grabbing your balls? Well, I think it would have been weird not to. My Mom went to the wrestling match with me, so it was only fair.

Hanging out with my parents is just one of the many things that make me so incredibly cool. Awesome, really.

There are pictures, but I don’t have any of them. And they’re probably all incredibly unflattering. Dancing makes Hope sweaty. The gross kind of sweaty, not the cute kind of sweaty. There is a distinct possibility that I will be untagging myself in quite a few facebook photos this week.

If there is facebook untagging, you know it was a successful evening.