... Well what can I say? There I was expecting my life in America to be all housework and homesickness, with everyone expecting me to grow up and cease being childish. But then I found myself last night line dancing, microphone hogging and hot tubbing. How did that happen?
The line dancing was an 'International Wives' event. Sounds terrible on paper; the most fun without alcohol I've almost ever had in real life. Our teacher, a lady in middle years with more than a bit of a bulge got onto that microphone and worked her booty showing us how it was done. She really knew how to move. Two hours later, we were all yodelling, swinging our hips and sashaying round the dancefloor.
Onto the High Noon Saloon, possibly Leavenworth's most dodgy establishment (primary clientele: soliders and prisoners), but definitely one of the most fun. Several beers and a massive burger later we were on the dancefloor showing off our newly learned moves and dancing dangerously close to a 60-year od man with a long ponytail and a penchant for head to toe denim. Excitement. Karaoke. Shots. Back to Mrs Williams' house for more drinks. Into the hot tub. 'I have Never'. Champagne. Wrinkeld skin. Weeing on the lawn because we couldn't be bothered to go into the house. Finally we climbed out. 5.30am. The sun was about to rise. The Major must have been getting up as I finally flopped into bed. Today: massive hangover. Stinking of chlorine. Gearing up for the next International event tonight: the Spring Food Fair. Who knew Kansas would be this fun?
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