John Travolta

(Some names have been changed for privacy.)

(I do not own this image. Obviously.)

         I have been blessed with the gift of extraordinary dreams. I have a wildly entertaining movie-esque dream almost every night. They are vivid, colorful, and have intricate plot lines. (This is why I love sleeping so much. The dark side of this gift, however, are my graphic, semi-frequent nightmares.) I've had several gems crop up over the years, but none quite as glorious as a dream my friends know as "The John Travolta Dream."

    Backstory:

         The area I grew up in is a pretty small and boring place so everyone mostly knows everyone else. There are universally "cool" people and their counterparts, the universally "lame". Lee Gene was one of these poor people who got crapped on by the rest of us regularly (even me, and I was massively lame). Looking back on things, I think we were really unfair to poor Lee. Now that I'm older, I just see a kid who had been through a lot more than the rest of us and who was going through a phase most of us didn't reach for another several years. That isn't to say he wasn't annoying or creepy (because that dude was seriously scary sometimes), but I do wish my younger self had been able to show him more kindness.

         In 2007, Lee Gene ended up moving into a house on the same street as my childhood friend, Naia. It was kind of surprising because even for where we lived, Naia's house was back in the middle of nowhere surrounded by horse farms and semi-wild peacocks. (Yes, peacocks.) We could not believe our bad luck. Of all the people to move down the street! "At least it's not Michael Jackson," I told Naia helpfully. (It had been rumored that year that Michael Jackson was moving into a house in Bay Creek, local rich-peeps neighborhood. As if, Eastern Shore. You should be so lucky to house the King of Pop!)

         I regret to tell you it was a little worse than we had anticipated (because really we were just insulted that Lee would dare to enter our safe haven territory.) It started with Naia and our friend Alex walking through the woods wearing cloaks. (Yeah, I already warned you we were pretty "lame" so stop laughing. Cloaks are awesome, and you're just jealous. We were practically woodland elves.) Lee Gene materialized out of thin air using his dark powers and started following them. Now, for the record, this was not a menacing kind of thing. Lee Gene was just trying to coerce them into conversation and probably friendship, but we were pretty anti-social and saw this as a threat to our peace. (You can say it. We were stone cold bitches.) Lee Gene was the kind of person you could give an inch to and he'd take a mile. Their few cold responses that would have said to anyone else, “Okay, these weird chicks don’t want my company,” only added fuel to his fire. He followed them all the way home until they shut the door in his face. These kinds of interactions continued. For example, he showed up knocking on Naia's door early one morning trying to get them to hang out with him. Unfortunately for Lee Gene, his timing was terrible because one: Naia and their family sleep in pretty late unless forced to do otherwise, two: Naia was wearing only a small kimono robe, and three: their parents were out of town. Three strikes, you're out, Lee Gene! Between the fury of being disturbed so early in the day and the discomfort of being surprised home alone in only a robe, Lee Gene destroyed any slim chance that Naia would ever give him even a centimeter again.

         As I have stated, it can be super boring where we lived so gossip (one of the few forms of entertainment) could often be running low. Naia, Alex, and I often amused ourselves by making Lee Gene the butt of our jokes. Lee Gene was regular conversation to us. Lee Gene was fair game to us. Lee Gene was our comedic crutch. If all else failed, it was totally acceptable to make a Lee Gene joke. (Honestly, we would have been smarter to hang out with Lee Gene more often to supply ourselves with more gossip-ammo.) And then, in early August of 2007, I had "The John Travolta Dream" and everything about Lee Gene became an even bigger joke.

                  The John Travolta Dream

        It's the middle of the night and I am wide awake. I am on a mission, and I cannot be stopped. Lee Gene has built a house right in my backyard. That bastard is sleeping snug as a bug a mere twenty feet from my mudroom door, but not for long. I sneak out of the mudroom and let the cool night air wash over me, filling me with confidence, waking me up inside (that one's for you, Evanescence). I am focused, I am alert, I am the night! Using my super speed (because apparently I had powers in this dream although they remain unexplained) I start running around Lee Gene's wide, modern, one story, brown rancher. It was a simple operation: in and out and no one will know. After a warm up super-speedy lap, I start using my X-Ray vision to look through the walls of the house. My goal? To locate Lee Gene's room so I could bomb him and eliminate the threat of his existence! (Bomb him? What the hell is wrong with me? That's so mean!)

         I see it! I see his room! Target acquired! Okay, back to bed I go. But wait! No! What's happening? I can't stop! I'm going too fast! I have to take a third lap around the house to slow down. This was not part of the plan! As I am coming to a halt, I glance back at the house and THE HORROR! MAY DAY, MAY DAY! I HAVE WOKEN LEE GENE UP AND HE IS COMING OUTSIDE! I hustle my ass back into the mudroom, but it is too late. As I start to climb the steps to the laundry room, Lee enters the mudroom! There is no polite escape! (I'm seriously worried about being polite at this point? I was just spying on this guy and planning to blast him out of existence, but by all means, let's not be rude to him now.)

Lee: Oh, hey, Sarah!

Me: Hey, Lee Gene...

Lee: What are you doing up so late? (Lee dives his torso into one of two huge trash cans just inside the door and starts rummaging through my family's garbage.)

Me: I...What's with the third degree? What are YOU doing up so late? What are you...why the hell are you digging through my trash?

Lee: (Head in trash can) Oh, I'm just looking for some treasures.

Me: (edging slowly up the steps while Lee rambles about the great things he has found in the garbage.)

Lee: (Suddenly pops up and gasps loudly, holding a thick CD case) OH MY GAWD! WHAT IS THIS DOING IN THE TRASH?

Me: Uh...I don't know. What is it?

Lee: (reveals CD case that reads: Hairspray! Special edition CD set. Includes: full movie soundtrack, bonus tracks, karaoke tracks, DVD of unseen rehearsal and recording footage with exclusive interview with John Travolta.) JOHN TRAVOLTA! HAIRSPRAY! I LOVE JOHN TRAVOLTA! CAN I HAVE THIS?

Me: Uh...I guess?

Lee: (squeals like a little girl) But why was it in the trash?

Me: I think someone gave it to my sister and she thought it was lame.

Lee: Who would ever think John Travolta was lame? That's crazy! (But not as crazy as digging in garbage apparently because he tucks the CD in the waist line of his pants and returns to my trash cans, loudly rattling off fun facts about John Travolta's performance in the movie Hairspray)

Me: Uh...that's great Lee Gene. I'm going to go to bed now...

Lee: (interrupts me with an epic girlish scream, pops up from the garbage can holding a massive pair of sneakers with images of John Travolta as a woman in Hairspray plastered all over them.) OH. MY. GAAAAAWD! (Said in the voice of Janice from Friends) WHAT ARE THESE DOING IN THE TRASH?

Me: They're too big for my sister to wear...

Lee: CAN I HAVE THESE???

Me: Take whatever you want! Just get out of here!

Lee: (screaming) JOHN TRAVOLTA! HAIRSPRAY! OH MY GAWD! JOHN TRAVOLTAAAAA! (Suddenly, Lee is wearing the sneakers and swooping me into his arms Hercules style) Thank you, Sarah! You have made all my dreams come true!

         Suddenly the scene is overtaken by a black and white swirly backdrop like I'm old horror films, screechy violins start playing, and Lee Gene's smiling face starts circling in the opposite direction of the backdrop. He recites in a sing-song voice, "John Travolta! John Travolta! John Travolta! John Travolta!”  His voice gets louder and louder until....I woke up screaming.

(Like this but with Lee Gene’s face instead of John Travolta’s.)

~Fin ~

         After the initial shock wore off and I finished checking to make sure Lee Gene wasn't hidden somewhere in my room or waiting outside of my house, it became very hilarious to me. It later inspired me to create "The John Travolta Dance".

         "The John Travolta Dance" must only be performed in Banana Republic or other equally unnecessarily snooty stores. You must attempt to be as mismatched as possible no matter how short notice it is. Here are a few fun tips to do so:

·         Try moving your bra or underpants to the outside of your clothes.

·         Try switching one shoe with a friend’s.

·         Try wearing a sock on your hand.

·         Put on a child's hat.

·         Roll up one pant leg.

·         Smear your make up like a lunatic.

Don't feel the need to stick to these ideas though. Get creative with it!

         "The John Travolta Dance" is very simple. Anyone with legs and feet and a sense of humor can do it. It is merely a bounding skip as you chant "John Travolta" in ever rising volume using a sing-song-y, high-pitched voice, and point at random objects and people in your path. An occasional break to jump while using jazz hands in front of particularly grumpy people is encouraged. I give you this gift as a token of my love. May it get you all kicked out of as many Banana Republic's as it has for me.

(This essay is dedicated to Lee Gene. You inspired me albeit in a strange way. I wish you a long and happy life. May all your dreams actually come true.)