… or ANIMALS: You’re Making Humans Look Bad. New bloggings from Chris on Wildcats, Frisbee Dogs, Racin’ Pigs and Heavy Petting.

I’m in Valdosta, Georgia.

You might know Valdosta as ‘Title Town USA’, an accolade handed down by viewers of ESPN in 2008 because of the city’s unrivalled championship football pedigree. Or maybe you know it as ‘Winnersville’ on account of Valdosta High School’s six national championship titles – ‘the winningest high school football team in the country’, as ESPN put it. (That high school football is so huge in America still amazes me; almost as much as the fact that ‘winningest’ is considered acceptable scripting for television.) Not bad though, for a city with a population of 40,000 – Valdosta apparently punches way above its weight. If you’ve seen the film or read the book Friday Night Lights, Valdosta Wildcats are like the Permian Panthers, only better – because they win.

Or you might know Valdosta by its more homely and horticultural name – Azalea City – on account of the profusion of purple, flowering shrubs found in its parks and gardens. In recognition of this, Valdosta was recently voted ‘bloomingest city in South Georgia’ by Home & Garden Television.

No, you’re right. It wasn’t. But they do have an Azalea Festival every year in the city’s lush and pine-shaded Drexel Park, a springtime celebration of the blossoming azalea and another chance – if you need one – to fill your face with fried dough and candy so sweet it makes your fillings tingle. This Saturday we were looking for just such an opportunity.

The Azalea Festival was a mix of British farmers’ market – all handmade soaps and homespun basketry – with some sideshow attractions of the American country show variety thrown in for added interest: racing pigs, Frisbee dogs, petting zoo, that sort of thing. (I still have to suppress an adolescent snigger whenever I pass a petting zoo. Where I’m from, petting is something you’re banned from doing in public swimming pools, not something you do to small animals. The phrase ‘petting zoo’ conjures images for me of caged, amorous couples locked up by stern-faced lifeguards.)

Bang in the middle of all this was a wide, raised stage, tantalisingly empty on first passing but with a large PA system promising untold excitement if we stuck around until show time.

An hour later we passed again, just as a line of people, all dressed in matching white T-shirts, black jeans and cowboy boots was filing onto the stage. Thumbs hooked through their belt loops, they formed themselves into four rows of five and waited for the music to start. Garth McGraw, Travis Brooks or some such thundered from the speakers. They plodded left in time to the music, then briefly right, then turned to the back and clapped in unison. Now right, then briefly left, then an extended right heel out in front. Clap. Repeat.

Can someone please explain the appeal of line dancing to me? I hesitate to ask what the point of it is, because let’s face it what’s the point of football or cycling or singing or just dancing at all for that matter. But what’s the point of a line dancing display? What makes line dancers think other people want to watch them doing it? Line dancing is so close to what humans do in the course of their daily lives – that is, propel themselves by means of their legs in a variety of directions – that it barely qualifies as dancing at all. I do something very close to line dancing just moving around the kitchen, only without the clapping (unless I’m feeling especially pleased with my porcini risotto). When a group of people collectively display such a staggering lack of artistic ambition, you can’t help but feel a little short changed. Inviting people to watch you line dancing is a little like selling tickets to a monster trucks display and then staging a series of synchronised three-point turns. Only much, much less interesting.

And more to the point, what hope is there for a line dancing display at a festival which also lists Frisbee dogs and racing pigs among its attractions? You would think that when applying for your pitch it pays to check out the competition first. (‘Shit Bill, are you sure you wanna go ahead with this line dancing display? They got Frisbee dogs and racin’ pigs.’)

What consenting adults get up to in the privacy of their own community centre is of course entirely up to them. And if pacing around in close formation to bad country music is your thing, then good luck to you. But like petting in the shallow end of your local swimming pool, doing it in public makes people uncomfortable.

In fact, here’s a suggestion. Let’s outlaw line dancing in public – make it a new commandment even – and replace it with synchronised heavy petting at next year’s Azalea Festival. Feedback welcome.

(And – ahem – you can buy Live Fast, Die Young Amazon now at a 33% discount.)

Tags: Azalea, Connected, Dancing, Disc, Disc-Connected, Dogs, Festival, Frisbee, Frisbee Dogs, Georgia, K9's, Line, Petting, Title, TitleTown, Town, Valdosta, Winnersville

This entry was posted on March 18th, 2010 and is filed under Chris. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response or Trackback from your own site.