The Engleson Files

There was a phase in my life when I loved to dance by myself on the speakers at nightclubs. This was, of course, early on in my illustrious clubbing career and lasted for only a brief period of time. The setting: early 1990’s, the Parrot Club in Grande Prairie, Alberta, on any given weekend - winter or summer, rain or shine. After having a few soda pops with friends and feeling ready we would usually head down to the Parrot Club to go and have some fun. It wasn’t too long afterward that I found myself on top of the large speakers on the dance floor with an over priced Long Island Icea Tea in hand. My dancing style was pure mockery - both of myself and the ridiculous music you hear before you now. Anyways, my dancing became a bit of thing in the sense that some of the high powered thugs had girlfriends who seemed to have got a kick out of watching me. This meant payback and it usually came in the form of me getting the tar beat out of me in the parking lot afterward, or sometimes right in the middle of the dance floor itself. As this progressed (or regressed) over time, one of the high end drug lords of Grande Prairie pulled me aside and said, “you keep doing your thing, I have guys watching out for you who will handle the situation.” And that was that. Scuffles continued to ensue but I was now able to stay on the periphery. Strange? Absolutely. To watch other people (who I did not even know) engage in conflict over my dancing monkey routine was a very bizarre experience of human nature; but, that is where I was, where were you??