I‘ve mentioned 
a couple of times that I lived a fairly harmless nightlife, where on Saturday nights, I tried to anonymously enjoy a small club (‘The Swing’) in the center of the city I did not live in before returning back to a club in the city I used to live in. I was introduced to this club by a colleague, who’s brother happened to be a bouncer at that place. This is also the club where I befriended people I would have not dared to talk to if it wasn’t for the thing I didn’t mind the, that is dancing or watching other people dance.
It was one of those nights, where I entered the club expecting to be all alone, and was surprised to find one of my female friends, who was apparently with a date, sitting at the sideline of the dance floor, trying to get a dance out. After a quick greeting, I ran to the DJ’s corner to request a song, ran back and danced with my friend to the tunes of ‘Candy’ (sample in usual 30+ seconds) in our best ‘Iggy’ vs. ‘Kate’ style, half-laughingly making fun of each other. Obviously, we where having fun while her date was not. To add to the absurdness of the situation, we discovered her date had gone at the end of the song. So much for ‘Candy, Baby’.
I mention this event, because during my brief return to The Netherlands in 2006/2007, I happened to run into my friend again, to who I brought up the incident. She remembered the event because of the date she was with (who apparently was a person she didn’t really know but who she had run into and had told her about that club) and the fact that I surprisingly showed up out of nowhere. I told her that I vividly remembered that night, because of the absurd turn of events during that obnoxious song: Generally, I don’t dance with other people’s dates but I wouldn’t walk out either.
And, yes, I generally don’t care about Iggy Pop.