Hey, who wants to dance with me?

Hath-Time

By Nathan Hathaway

Has everyone heard? Supposedly, some dance started last night.

I always get hyped for dances. I’m not a great dancer, but it’s fun to throw your hat in the ring, or at least in the middle of that big circle of people that seems to form at every dance.

But they say this dance is bigger. In fact, they’re referring to it as “The Big Dance.”

It’s a college dance, so you can expect a higher quality of rug-cutters than those high school kiddies doing The Dip, the C-walk and the Electric Slide.

No, these dancers will be poppin’ and lockin’. Top quality stuff.

So now arises the big question: Whom do you go with? Who do you pick to make it to the last song of the dance? Bear in mind if you don’t pick the right one, your date may drop dead in the middle of it.

You started with 64 options. The pool was whittled down to 48 Thursday. That’s still a big number. How do you choose?

Do you go with the frontrunners? Four of them, there are.

There’s a feisty little guy named St. Joseph who made a strong push all year to go as far as he could. There’s a devil in blue. There’s the Southern gentleman-type kid from Kentucky. And there’s a surprising guy from out West who refers to himself as a color but is represented by a tree.

There are the kids right in line behind the frontrunners, the group of four No. 2 options, if you will.

If you like Cowboys, you can choose the guy from the State of Oklahoma. A Husky guy from Connecticut seems to have promise (this one might have a tough time as he was the favorite at the outset of the school year, and it’s extremely rare for the early No. 1 to last the whole way).

Or if you want to exhibit solidarity for the Fresno State mascot, there are two Bulldogs in the row of kids waiting to be picked. These are the tough, mean type of dogs; not the same kind of dog you heartlessly called the ugly people at the high school dances (We have feelings, too, ya know).

You could always keep it close to home. Go with one of the kids from homeroom (the Western Athletic Conference) with whom you’re best acquainted.

The first guy’s kinda hairy, a wolfman, almost. And he always runs with his Pack. The other kid you know well is a Miner from Texas. But he’s not an option anymore since a tortoise from Maryland outran him in the first round of the race.

And this is just a smattering of the possible options. After Thursday, when 16 of your original beaus blew out a knee and are now playing the sad-looking wallflower, you’ve still got 48 guys down on one knee with a diamond necklace and a bottle of bubbly.

So now it comes down to it. No more stalling and trying to play 64 guys all at once (I think I once dated a girl who did that). As the old grail guard from the last Indiana Jones movie said, “You must choose. But choose wisely.” This is it. You’ve gotta stick with your pick. If he falls down and skins his elbows during the dance, you’ve gotta sit it out with him. You don’t get a second chance.

As for me, the husky guy sent me flowers and a box of chocolates yesterday, so I’m going with the Connecticut kid.

See you on the dance floor.