I remember hanging out with Allan in 1998, back when we used to live with Piston Honda in Union Square. His favorite club was called Match, his drink of choice was a Tom Collins extra sweet, and boy did he live to dance. I don't know if it was his mascot training that lit a spark, but I have never seen someone just get down and boogie to Big Pun's "I'm not a Player." He had some very interesting dances, but the one that stands out in particular is highlighted nicely in this video around the 1:00 mark. Check out the guy in the black suit. Although its not Allan in the clip, I think it gives a near identical representation of his dance skills:
Monday, October 27, 2008
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7 comments:
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
this is incredible. hahahaha
If the point of this video is to scare the everliving shit out of children they have succeeded, esp at the 2 minute mark.
Allan's dance moves were based entirely around Punjabi Bhangra styles blended deftly with traditional early 90's New Jack Swing dance moves. But as a witness to the times I must testify he spent far less time dancing and far more time looking at super hot girls and complaining about how always got too drunk to hit on them... and then getting too drunk to hit on them. Finally around 4 in the morning we'd stagger home after 7 glasses of Long Island Iced Tea and I'd shoplift unnecessary items from delis for no apparent reason.
I'll never forget one time at Shine (haha) a decade ago. Steve and I went out and started dancing furiously. Steve did this whirling dervish thing that was so damn funny. As you stated, we'd be so unbelievably blasted that we couldn't speak. All we could do was violently gyrate. So, after a summer of being afraid of super hot girls that were easily 5 to 10 years older than us, Steve and I thought we were in luck this one night. At the edge of where we were dancing there were 2 girls, both very cute, watching us and motioning that we should come over. Steve and I looked at each other in complete disbelief. We did a double-take, they were still there, looking like they wanted to dance. Again, Steve and I looked at each other. Suddenly, we started laughing bc without speaking a word we realized we were so hammered, so young, and so poor. We sprinted out of Shine in a classic example of "chickening out". Funny, because I pulled the same shit Saturday night. No joke.
Was that the night that Ron Mexico got electrocuted on the balcony at Carlyle?
Holy shit...that lightening bolt hit a water cooler 20 feet from my face. I think it was a warning shot telling me to stop doing so many bad things to my body. And Allan, that was a sad sad night. We had messed up priorities back then.
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