Put on your dancing shoes and go 'Shaggin' on the Cooper'
Mount Pleasant’s “Shaggin’ on the Cooper” event intrigued me, so I convinced a group of friends (and my husband) to accompany me, once I assured them that this “shaggin’” would be a far cry from Austin Power’s definition. They are used to the fact that I have a creative but not always organized mind. I ordered 12 tickets online and the questions began.
“Should we bring chairs?”
“Chairs, really?” I said with surprise. “But we will be dancing.”
“We should bring chairs.”
So, I emailed everyone and told them that chairs were suggested.
“Will there be food there?”
“Hmm…don’t know — maybe food trucks?”
“Let’s go to dinner first?”
“Yes!” (I’m all about including a meal with every activity.)
I was quite sure that Taco Boy was where we had to go on this particular night—even though I had never been there before, and even though they would not take a reservation for 12 people. One very thoughtful (and organized!) couple in our group got there early and held part of a table—we still had to wait for some other people to get up for all of us to have seats. It was delicious and sort of grungy—just the effect I was going for.
I brought my essential oil of lavender to share with everyone—to keep away the mosquitos and no-see-ums…only the flies didn’t get the memo. After dinner, we got to the parking lot at the pier. Some of us didn’t find it on the first try, and then we started walking, and sweating, and walking…
Everyone schlepped their chairs except us. We forgot ours.
“Did anyone know that we would be walking this far?”
All eyes, framed by beads of sweat, were on me—chair-free, little old me.
One member of our group brought a very heavy, teak folding chair, thinking that it would be more comfortable than the typical chairs you bring to athletic games and the beach—the ones that are pretty hard to get out of once you sink down into them. He was looking pretty desperate the further along we got. We called it “the titanic chair”—it looked like those slatted wood chairs on the deck of that infamous ocean-liner, the nickname being fitting for more than the obvious reason.
We finally got to the entrance of the pier and realized that one of the couples had never caught up to us from the parking lot.
“Don’t worry, “I said to the rest of the group. “I will go back for them.”
At this point “saggin’” was a more realistic description of our status than “shaggin’” - so although they offered to walk back as well, I quickly took off without them, trying not to focus on what was becoming an enormous blister on my foot, in spite of the perfectly cute, comfy shoes I had chosen for dancing.
When we were finally all together, with all of the chairs set up and occupied, and everyone with cold drinks in hand, the mood became upbeat again. The night was gorgeous with a cool breeze, the moon reflecting off the water and all of the shiny, happy people.
Some of us walked to the end of the pier to check out the dancers and the band—which was fantastic by the way. I knew there would be dancing, but this was an awakening.
The shag dancers were amazing—their relaxed movements were like a combo of slinkies and gumbies. Many of the dancers were barefoot. That was all I needed to see to take off my shoes—certainly no one knew of my ulterior motive.
To be fair, not everyone was shagging, including us, but we were sure having fun trying.
Back at our circle of chairs, minus two, everyone generously took turns sharing with us. Most of the women became very excited about the idea of learning how to shag dance. The men? Not so much.
I immediately said I would find someone to teach us, knowing that the men could always be convinced.
“How will you find someone?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Where will we do the lessons?”
“Maybe someone’s garage?”
“Won’t it be hot?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“Should we serve dinner?”
I found someone young to take a photo of all of us—young because they are the best with the phone/cameras and because they know how to comply (or at least try to) with my usual request: “Please make me look young, tall and skinny.”
Our circle began to break up and we all started off on the very long walk back to the parking lot. Some of us were dreaming of shag dancing lessons, and some of us were just dreaming of crawling into bed.
Behind us, the music played on, the dancing was still going strong as well as chattering, drinking and camaraderie. Only the “titanic chair” sat alone by the edge of the pier.
To find out when the next Shaggin’ on the Cooper event will be held, visit https://ccprc.com/1175/Shaggin-on-the-Cooper.