I like to dance.

I’m not any good at it, but that’s OK because if you’re dancing when there is booze around, people tend to not pay that much attention to you.

In Evansville, there are very few places to dance – yes, I mean club dance. No, I don’t mean bumping and grinding. I mean just dancing to stupid radio songs with little-to-no meaning and letting everything go.

RiRa’s Irish Pub has a second floor dancing area, and a few friends and I went out to have fun.

Problems. Everywhere.

First, the DJ played the same song twice within an hour. Really? And it was “The Wobble.” I don’t have anything against “The Wobble,” but that’s dancing the same dance over and over a lot. He also played “Hot in Herre” by Nelly. Granted, it was hot in there (no fans), but that song is a million years old or something. The tempo is slow for me.

Second and most importantly, there were old people up there in the dance area. I know, old people have to dance, too. I respect that. These five to six couples were disgusting, though.

They were grinding more than my friends and I even thought about doing. One couple – the man was sitting down and his lady friend (in a very short dress, I might add) just rubbed her ass all up and down him. Then she turned around, and he shoved his face in her boobs. I hope that wasn’t a family outing for them and their children couldn’t see this. Honestly, and I know I shouldn’t do this, but I feel like in a college town dance “club,” I should be able to grab any guy next to me and feel all right dancing with him. But too many times when I turned around, there was a middle-aged man standing too close to me for comfort.

I just suggest that RiRa’s add some class to the second floor. And pick another DJ.