Ultrick

Here are little tidbits of my comings and goings on a recent...

Wed, 04 Jan 2012 10:38:14 -0700

Here are little tidbits of my comings and goings on a recent trip to see my sister, Melanie, and her family in Beirut.

Song: Wilco’s “I Might”

Movin' On

Wed, 08 Jun 2011 21:24:00 -0600

Moving. It’s that time of year again. I love living in new places with new people, but the idea of packing and unpacking everything I own makes me want to escape to Belize where no one can find me. Or at least El Paso. I have a bunch of stuff. And when I say stuff, I mean crap. The inventory includes a bundle of buttons, coloring books from high school, and a dress-up wardrobe that rivals the size of my everyday-wear. I’ve hoarded old workbooks, an unopened quill, and a recently purchased sandwich toaster. The interminable multiplication of junk makes me feel like Calvin (of Calvin and Hobbes, my favorite comic) battling his meal:

I don’t know where it begins or ends, what’s up or down. But unlike Calvin, I don’t know how I could part with any piece of it. Upon pulling out any item from my hoarded horde, I initiate a sequence that is both unhealthy and unbelievably predictable: I keep everything. Let’s say I decide to “go through” some of my old boxes. For most, that process includes sifting through old items, and tossing unneeded/unused fluff. For me, that means I pull out each worthless gem, turn it over, and find an excuse to put it right back where it was. That t-shirt I haven’t worn in 2 years but takes me back to that one time I wore it at camp during that hilarious skit? Keep it. How about this birthday card dated 1998 from our 3 week resident Japanese exchange student? I’ll treasure it always. Are these the legs of pants from those jorts I cut last summer? Of course! I’ll use those for a craft someday. You can see how persuasive I can be.

Something I hate about packing and unpacking is how time consuming it is. It will take me anywhere from 20 seconds to 2 hours to pack/unpack a single box. A box of kitchen stuff goes pretty quickly (unless I’m unpacking salt and vinegar chips, in which case it’s anybody’s guess). A box of school papers from 4th grade, on the other hand, is quicksand. I pull out a notebook, flip through it, and find a drawing of my best friend whom I decided needed to sport an Old Navy tech vest. I remember I still have an Old Navy tech vest. I go find it in my closet to see if it still fits, and find something in the pocket — an old safety pin. Right, that safety pin I used on that road trip to open a bottle of glue. I decide to put the safety pin in my desk. I start sifting through the papers in my desk, find old awards or thank you letters from Christmas ‘09. As I’m looking through the papers, I decide to sit down. After I look through the papers (none of which I discard), I realize I’m right back to my 4th grade binders and gel pens. This cycle is virtually endless until I decide to just close all the boxes and leave it to future Liz, who will be much more grumpy.

Moving also means I accumulate others’ refuse. “Hey, I don’t want any of this anymore. If you want something, take it.” Those words spell danger. I’ll think to myself, “You know, I might not always need this life jacket, but one day I might, and I’ll be glad I have it.” Or the classic, “That can totally go in the dress up bin.” Dress up stuff and just-in-case stuff account for approximately 90% of my possessions. Tie dye makes up the next 8.4%, and the rest is what I actually live on. All I know is, I am mighty popular once Halloween rolls around.

"What does it all mean?” I said. “A good question!” he rejoined: “nobody..."

Sun, 13 Mar 2011 20:56:00 -0600

““What does it all mean?” I said.
“A good question!” he rejoined: “nobody knows what anything is; a man can learn only what a thing means! Whether he do, depends on the use he is making of it.”
“I have made no use of anything yet!”
“Not much; but you know the fact, and that is something! Most people take more than a lifetime to learn that they have learned nothing, and done less! At least you have not been without the desire to be of use!”
…
“I am ready to believe whatever you tell me — as soon as I understand what it means.”
“Had you accepted our invitation, you would have known the right way. When a man will not act where he is, he must go far to find his work.”
“Indeed I have gone far, and got nowhere, for I have not found my work! I left the children to learn how to serve them, and have only learned the danger they are in.”
“When you were with them, you were where you could help them: you left your work to look for it! It takes a wise man to know when to go away; a fool may learn to go back at once!”
“Do you mean, sir, I could have done something for the Little Ones by staying with them?”
“Could you teach them anything by leaving them?”
“No; but how could I teach them? I did not know how to begin. Besides, they were far ahead of me!”
…
“You might have removed some of the hindrances to their growing!”
“What are they? I do not know them. I did think perhaps it was the want of water!”
“Of course it is! they have none to cry with!”
“I would gladly have kept them from requiring any for that purpose!”
“No doubt you would — the aim of all stupid philanthropists! Why, Mr. Vane, but for the weeping in it, your world would never have become worth saving! You confess you thought it might be water they wanted: why did not you dig them a well or two?”
“That never entered my mind!”
“Not when the sounds of the waters under the earth entered your ears?”
…
“I fear what you say is true, Mr. Raven! But indeed I was afraid that more knowledge might prove an injury to them — render them less innocent, less lovely.”
“They had given you no reason to harbour such a fear!”
“Is not a little knowledge a dangerous thing?”
“That is one of the pet falsehoods of your world! Is man’s greatest knowledge more than a little? or is it therefore dangerous? The fancy that knowledge is in itself a great thing, would make any degree of knowledge more dangerous than any amount of ignorance. To know all things would not be greatness.”
“At least it was for love of them, not from cowardice that I served the giants!”
“…You lost your chance with the LOvers, Mr. Vane! You speculated about them instead of helping them!””

- Lilith — George MacDonald

First Class Floozy

Wed, 02 Feb 2011 15:34:00 -0700

I haven’t written about my return flight from Spain, and it is certainly worth mentioning. I used my airline miles to pay for the flight, and being such a valued American Airlines member, they rewarded this little piggy with first class flights all the way home. I have never been part of anything so extravagant. As soon as I sat down, a flight attendant glided over with a tray of orange juice and champagne to refresh my weary brow from priority boarding. She introduced herself as Jeannie, which fitted her better than I expected. I have since dreamt of Jeannie. I took a glass of orange juice because it was closest and I wanted to be on my best manners, but then felt the rush of first class entitlement and called her back. I drank that champagne like it had my name on it. Then the flight attendant made her way around the cabin, asking everyone’s name and taking down orders for the meal. I answered her query with “Elizabeth” because it sounds more sophisticated, but needed more time to look over the menu while I munched on warm mixed nuts and a veggie plate. I landed on an exquisite beef dish with mashed potatoes, a spinach salad with assorted veggies, and green beans. The list of alcohol was no less exquisite, and I tried to map out how to get a little of everything without being distasteful. I started with sherry because I had never tried it (but I would never tell Jeannie that). I tried to ration my sips, but as Jeannie made her way through the cabin several times with a bottle in each hand, I realized that I needed to stop thinking so economically. The first time she offered to fetch me a glass of wine after the sherry, I declined thinking I would appear self-controlled and regal, but that all went out the window when she caught me licking the plate (it wouldn’t have been as embarrassing if it had been my own plate). I switched to wine and never looked back, accepting anything and everything she offered me. I even helped myself to an extra “Amenity Pack” that touched my feet (which in my mind is qualifies as property rights). When I was seated on the plane, each seat in first class had a zippered pack stuffed to the brim with goodies: Burt’s Bees chapstick (which I still use), Burt’s Bees lotion (which I still use), a tiny ounce tube of toothpaste (which I still use… not really), a toothbrush, a sleeping mask, socks, and Tylenol. I could live off one of those packs for weeks (but again, I would never let on to Jeannie that that was true). As I settled into my second movie with the Bose headphones Jeannie handed me during the warm nuts phase of the flight, I looked around to see if anyone of the the other passengers were as giddy as I. Everyone else’s feet touched the ground, and if they didn’t, they weren’t twitching and kicking in flurries like mine. That sobered me a bit, but not enough to lower my seat enough for my boots to touch the carpeted floor. In the middle of Inception, Jeannie dropped by to see how I was doing and ask whether I would care for a cold meat plate. I wasn’t hungry, but accepted it all the same. As soon as I feasted my eyes on that plate, however, I knew that Jeannie truly lived up to her name. She knew me better than I knew myself. I didn’t even know I wanted beef cutlets, slices of mozzarella and tomato, a grape atop a heap of couscous, a warm cookie and a Coke, but Jeannie did. So there I sat, wiggling and giggling in my boots while Leo and the crew traversed consciousness. I’ll not soon forget Jeannie, nor the expectations she’s laid out to be disappointed by every flight for the rest of my life.

Bookaholic

Tue, 28 Dec 2010 09:28:00 -0700

I have a problem. It’s a book buying kind of problem. It’s been around for ages. I own lots of books. I own lots of books I haven’t even read yet. I also buy lots of books, thus aggrandizing the problem. This past semester, I started to chip away at the mound of books I own but haven’t read yet, as I’ve listed before. I started Last of the Mohicans a couple days ago with the same objective in mind. Things went downhill on Christmas. My sister Rebecca got me 7 short stories by Roald Dahl (which I had asked for), so I dropped LOTM like it was hott and adopted Roald as my mistress until I could crawl back to James Fenimore and beg for forgiveness. That plan had been smoothed out in my mind, and I had guiltlessly reached the 3rd short story (Mildenhall Treasure) when my sisters and I went to Borders to blow our Christmas gift cards. I tried to stay away, I really did. I perused the dwindling music section and shook my head at Billy Joel’s Greatest Hits as if to say, “You don’t belong here.” Then I thought about the kind of people that still buy CDs at Borders, and it made his smirk look rather smug as I realized which of us didn’t actually belong. I groaned at the outrageous prices, and thought about how many more aisles iTunes could make with all its music than Borders’s measly two (I mean at this point, why bother?). In the end, I caved and walked over to the literature section. I mean, who was I kidding, anyway? I always did the same thing in high school at that very Borders. I belong in the corner next to poetry across from the sci-fi section. Sort of embarrassing confession: in high school I would sometimes just go to Borders to hang out. I would try to finish books in one sitting (once, I almost finished The Bell Jar by Silvia Plath). Plus of Borders being my Friday night hangout: my vocabulary was kickin’ back in those days. Downside of Borders being my Friday night hangout: the only cool high school stories to tell my grandkids about when I start with “Back in my day…” will be about the layout of Borders or their electronic searching system. Anyway, I always have an ever-growing list of books I want to read or think I should have read at some point (Catch-22 [which I have owned since my junior year of high school] and Catcher in the Rye [which I do not own… yet] being good examples), so trips to Borders in recent years have become complicated and emotional, as I always want to buy 6 books that I shouldn’t add to my collection of ‘unreads’ when I can either afford none of them, or only have a limited gift card allowance. More often than not, I just end up using the gift card and my own money to add to the collection. The selection process is just as pained. I’ll sit cross-legged on the floor looking from one book to the other, consider one author then the other, read the summary of one book then the other, decide on one, get up and start walking toward the cash register, stop, turn around, turn around again, groan, then go back, sit down, and start the process again. It can be heart-wrenching to leave a good book behind. I always look back longingly at the one I’ve rejected before I turn the corner as if to say, “I’ll come back for you.” I believe it at the time, but reality usually hits pretty hard when I look at the armload of books I think I’ll somehow finish in one vacation or even within the next 6 months. Yesterday was no different. I left Borders with David Sedaris’s (author of one of my favorite books, Me Talk Pretty One Day) When You Are Engulfed In Flames and Kurt Vonnegut’s Breakfast of Champions. I’ve never read any Kurt Vonnegut, so I figured now is the time. I left behind (with the longing glance, of course) Salman Rushdie’s Midnight Children. Someday, Rushdie, I’ll be back for you, but don’t wait up.

Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters Alice in Wonderland Tangible Kingdom The Silmarillion (only...

Sat, 25 Dec 2010 14:50:00 -0700

~~Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters~~
~~Alice in Wonderland~~
~~Tangible Kingdom~~
~~The Silm~~arillion (only crossed out halfway because I only finished half before giving up)
~~In Cold Blood~~
~~Cyrano de Bergurac~~

And now for the latest list:

Last of the Mohicans
Roald Dahl’s The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies
Deathly Hallows

one of the better decisions I’ve made lately is to follow whenparentstext.com.

Sun, 19 Dec 2010 13:21:29 -0700

one of the better decisions I’ve made lately is to follow whenparentstext.com.

whenparentstext.com

Sun, 19 Dec 2010 13:20:00 -0700

Mom: Do you know how to check twitter to see where Lionel Richie is?

Last, but certainly not least, with one day left, the #1 one...

Wed, 15 Dec 2010 07:26:13 -0700

Last, but certainly not least, with one day left, the #1 one thing I’ll miss is this group of people. They have been my family here. Teresa, Cristian y Abigail (not pictured, Sirju).

dos más

Tue, 14 Dec 2010 12:18:54 -0700

I will miss the smell of roasting chestnuts as I walk around or near the plaza. They smell incredible and the stands are warm as I walk past.

This one is split into two because I’m running out of days to fill with things I’ll miss. I will miss Spanish expressions, both verbal and nonverbal:

2. a) Spanish people love to infuse their conversations with phrases like, “Hombre,” and “Tío/Tía.” The way they emphasize it when they talk make them sound awesome. I’ve been trying for months to slip it into casual conversation, but the one time I tried, I just sounded like a kid trying out a cuss word and just sounding forced and out of place in the end.

b) Spaniards’ facial expressions and the way they move their hands is really entertaining to watch. I will miss the way they use their eyes and eyebrows. They have really distinctive gestures that go along with their expressions that make the ‘Merican tude look stoic.

you guessed it -- 3 more things

Mon, 13 Dec 2010 16:02:21 -0700

Yes, folks, I’ve listed 9 so far, and could go on for days — probably 2 more. Here are 3 more things I’ll long for when I get back Stateside:

People here love to talk to each other. People will stop and chat for awhile on the street, after they deliver/install/fix something, they’ll just hang out and talk for awhile. I really love that.
the kiss on each cheek to greet/bid farewell
I love the way Spanish people use their hands when they’re talking. It’s really fun to watch and more distinctive than any other language/culture I’ve come in contact with.

and then there were 4

Sun, 12 Dec 2010 14:20:47 -0700

In keeping in line with my last post, I’m going to list 4 more things I’ll miss about Spain since I only have 4 more days:

eating outrageously delicious baguettes with every single meal (except breakfast)
bocadillos (basically, sandwiches, but made with the aforementioned heavenly bread)
the plaza — there’s always something going on — people milling, kids playing, a little market, some music, or old people gathered/talking/laughing/arguing
Having someone do my laundry and make my meals for me. I have been spoiled rotten by it, and I love it.

5 days

Sat, 11 Dec 2010 09:54:39 -0700

woah. 5 days left. I knew when I left that 4 months would fly by, but dangs. It’s time. I will really miss Spain. So, with 5 days left, here are 5 things I’ll miss about Spain and my time here:

the architecture — it is fabulous here
seeing old people everywhere — don’t get that much in the States
speaking Spanish — I really love it and will miss it
walking everywhere/public transportation — even though it’ll be fun to drive my car again, I’ve loved walking and using buses/metros
tapas — They’re sort of like little appetizers that you get every time you order a drink here. They are delicious and will be sorely missed.

Saw a man in his 60s wearing a pair of these last night. Made me...

Thu, 09 Dec 2010 14:17:29 -0700

Saw a man in his 60s wearing a pair of these last night. Made me think of middle school and some of the other stuff I regret from those days. I had a pair of these that became so worn, old and gross that my mom threw them away. I dug through our big garbage bin to rescue them. The problem, folks, is not that I have so many clothes because I’m fashionable. The problem is that I can never get rid of any of them. I still have an Old Navy tech vest from 3rd grade.

I’m really gonna miss Spain.

No poop, no death, no problem

Tue, 07 Dec 2010 12:11:00 -0700

Alright, folks. Here’s a humble update for you all (sidenote: I’m going to miss the “vosotros” form in Spanish. I really like it.). Abigail and I made it to Lisbon this weekend but missed all the hullabaloo of an air traffic controller strike (thank you, Jesus — we had friends stranded in Amsterdam for a couple extra days [not that Amsterdam is a terrible place to be stranded]). Those people make a ton of money in Spain! It’s kind of outrageous… and kind of makes me want to go to air traffic control school (but only kind of). Anyway, Lisbon was surprisingly beautiful. I really loved it and would like to go back. I saw the most beautiful castle I’ve ever seen in Sintra, a little ways outside of Lisbon. Abigail and I made the trek out there with 3 people we met in our hostel (which was the best hostel stay we’ve had yet. Yes! Hostel: you get 2 kudos.) and started to walk up a hill we didn’t know was 10km. We hitched a ride and toured a really incredible palace. I loved it. I also met up with Miss Alison Ford there! It did my heart good to see her.

Then came the half marathon: the reason we were in Lisbon. My training this semester has consisted of 3 runs total, the longest of which was in October (it was also the last) and was 6 miles. Needless to say, Liz has been and will be working on follow through. The morning of the half came, and looking like a soccer mom, I set off on a really foolish endeavor. The 2 or 3 weeks leading up to the race, I couldn’t help but fearing I would die. I’m not talkin’ dyin’ in a metaphorical/melodramatic sense, I’m talkin’ there are cases of people going into sudden cardiac arrest and dying whilst running half and full marathons. So with little training and a metaphorically weak heart, I feared the worst. I figured the best solution would be to carry my health insurance card with me in case they needed to cart me off, along with my ID and debit card (to pay for the hearse). Abigail and I got separated at the beginning, and when I saw the first ambulance go by, my heart sank. What if Abigail already died? Is my time soon? My secondary fear was that I would poop my pants while running the race. I was determined to finish the race whether my leggings were filled with feces or not, but I kept imagining myself doing the poop walk for the last 4 miles. But! Don’t worry, this story ends happily: I neither pooped nor died.

Alison Ford came to watch us set off (so great of her), I put in my headphones, and set off. I started with an average 6 minute km for the first 10km, and didn’t stop until halfway through (half marathons are around 21km). I got to run by the 25th of April Bridge:

Yes, it does look like the Golden Gate Bridge, but no, it is not.

And I got to run by the Lisbon Monument to Discoveries:

The run was a great way to see the city (and 3 hills), but would have been a bit more enjoyable had I trained. Okay. So. Back to kilometer #10. I’m trying to keep pace with a 70-year-old man, but he outstrips me. I walked 5 times after the 10km mark. When I first started training, I thought simply not walking would be a fair goal, but after my first, last, and only 6 mile run, I decided a more realistic goal would be to finish in less than 2 and 1/2 hours and I could walk as much as I wanted. Well, folks, I at least met that goal. I finished in 2 hours and 28 minutes, behind a good a majority of the full marathon runners. At first, I felt pretty good about my time. I knew it wouldn’t be qualifying me for Boston, but I thought it was a pretty good time for my first go at a half. Then I had the awful idea to Google “average half marathon times.” One of the first links I clicked said that a 70-year-old woman that hadn’t trained should be happy to make it under 3 hours. The times they listed for those closer to my age in decent physical shape but without training were under 2. outrageous. Whatevs, even though those freaks ran it way faster, I got a medal, too, suckas!

I live with a funny girl. Abigail is her name. Here are a few things I love: “We are in...

Sun, 28 Nov 2010 09:31:00 -0700

I live with a funny girl. Abigail is her name. Here are a few things I love:

“We are in refinement over here.” She meant to say “confinement.”

She calls bidets “bidoos.”

Her definition of cradle-robbing is, “Y’know, stealin’ babies.”

Said of a handsome friend of ours, “I mean, he looks like a Scottish god right here.”

These are a few among many things that Abigail does and says to make me giggle. I will miss living with her.

…after reading over this, Abigail said, “What? Bid-ettes?” The good times roll on and on.

11.20.2010

Sun, 21 Nov 2010 05:46:39 -0700

Alright, folks. Time for me to brag a little… a lot. My birthday was pretty awesome. Let me tell you why: I Skyped with some of my closest friends (MaryBeth, Lauren, Jenny, Ashley, and Dana), which was a really big blessing. I miss those guys big time. Then I headed up to Madrid with my friend Bryce to see one of my favorite bands of all time. ARCADE FIRE.

We had really great spots on the floor, but we paid dearly by suffering through the opener. I could never figure out their name, but they were a horrendous screamo metal band. The lead screamer was this real big dude that had on loose basketball shorts, no shirt, a big ol’ belly and a hairy back. Blurry Exhibit A:

Notice how much everyone kept their distance. I wish I could’ve kept my distance from his music, but it was a small (albeit loud) price to pay for Win and co.

It all sort of blurs together at this point, but I’m pretty sure they opened with “Ready to Start” from their new album. dangs. These guys know how to perform. All 8 of them kept up the energy from start to finish of the 2 hour set. They also played old favs like “No Cars Go,” “Crown of Love,” “Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels),” and “Rebellion (Lies).” It’s hard to describe how wonderful it was. The crowd was fantastic, dancing and singing along with them.

As Win was introducing “The Suburbs,” he made a few stabs at American chains in Madrid (citing Applebee’s) that just sailed right over those Spaniards’ heads. My friends and I laughed, though. So sad to lose that wit over cultural boundaries.

Superb live tracks: “Sprawl II (Mounatins Beyond Mountains),” “Rococo,” “Wake “Up” (duh), “Intervention”

Now on to Régine. She is an incredible musician (we all knew this beforehand), but she is also an incredible performer. dangs. She played approximately 89 different instruments over the course of the night. She ranks right up there with Shara Worden in my eyes: multi-talented musician, great performer, and general awesomeness.

Even though the bass was turned up to 11 and drowned out Régine’s hurdy gurdy, it still couldn’t take away from how AMAZING Arcade Fire was. whew.

Oh. And then I saw Part 1 of the 7th Harry Potter, which was also incredible.

whew. What a birthday. It’s weird to think about saying “I’m 22.”

The Days Are Just Packed

Fri, 19 Nov 2010 11:00:03 -0700

1 day until I turn 22. weeeeeird.

27 days until I return to the States. weeeeeird.

29 days until I graduate from college. weeeeeird.

belated Barcelona

Sun, 14 Nov 2010 13:26:46 -0700

This post is a little late in coming, but here nonetheless. My time in Barcelona was so, so sweet. The weather was perfect, the streets were lovely, and touristy things were not in want. I tried to get into a famous cathedral designed by Gaudi called La Sagrada Familia, but it was closed because they had to set up cameras for the Pope’s visit (Sadly, I didn’t get to see the Pope Sunday morning because I had to leave for my flight. Otherwise, I could’ve seen him zoom past my hostel window. too bad. next time, Benny, next time). Instead, I opted for a leisurely brunch/journal/reading time and a stroll along Las Ramblas, a wide avenue full of shops, street performers, etc. I had seen a Vespa rental shop when I had gotten a little lost the night before trying to find the Picasso museum, and thought that would be a great way to spend an hour and see the city a bit more. However, I was faced with a bit of a time crunch. I also wanted to go see the Museum of Contemporary Art, and didn’t think I had time to do both and eat dinner and get ready (put on deodorant) and get to the club in time for LCD. Unfortunately, I chose the art. whew. That stuff was 1) super weird, which I half expected and 2) almost impossible to relate to (not almost, just totally impossible). After I had paid my 6E, though, I wasn’t going to turn back, so a disgruntled Liz shuffled from piece to piece scoffing and rolling her eyes at every turn. I made the “I think this is stupid face” quite a bit — I furrow my brows and raise one cheek. Should’a gone for the Vespa. Let that be a lesson for you all, for as I always say, “When in doubt, go the more dangerous route.”

I made myself some dinner in the hostel’s kitchen and headed out for the show. I got a little lost on couple streets that were only a little shady. Don’t worry, guys. I had a dream that someone tried to rob me in the street. All I have to do is tell the guy he should be ashamed of himself and yell in Spanish a little (then deliver a stolen box for my Asian dad to a woman who doesn’t speak). The show was really fun even though I danced by myself right at the front of the stage. Whoever did the lights for that show did a really great job, which made me think of my friend Evan French, who is also super awesome at lights. Thinking of him made me think of how awesome he is at photography, which made me look at my dinky little camera with a hint of disdain.

John Lusk asked to be mentioned in one of my blog posts. I’ve been trying to come up with a good nickname for him. The best I’ve got so far is J-WAL.

That one was a freebie, but the next person who asks for one will have to sponsor me.

Well, dangs. LCD was freakin’ awesome. I stood by the...

Tue, 09 Nov 2010 12:48:07 -0700

Well, dangs. LCD was freakin’ awesome. I stood by the stage like a wallflower, sippin’ on my outrageously overpriced Estrella Damm, listened to a surprisingly good DJ and waited for the fun to start. woah. LCD. I danced long and I danced sweatily all by my lonesome. The dorky, googly-eyed Americans, creepy old dudes, mackin’ Spanish hippies, and nice German couple around me stood their ground, but I swayed, bounced, and generally jigged like a freak for the entirety of their 2 hour set.