Bomber's Moon is a term from WW2 that was used to define a very bright moon. Aircraft didn't have the equipment for precise targeting and would use the unusually bright moon to help guide them for night bombing raids.
The Fall Bomber's Moon Dance, didn't require the dropping of bombs, unless we're talking about the ones I made on the dance floor.
This is probably my husbands reaction to that statement...so sorry.
The event that we attend takes place at the Commemorative Air Force and they throw the most amazing swing dances! They throw a few of these a year and it's our new goal to attend all of them.
The best part is dressing up. Since it's a hanger dance, the have an authentic big band playing music, they give swing dance lessons and there's a costume contest...(which I have yet to win!).
This was us in the spring. It was so much fun!
Posing near the plane.
I made a short film when we were there as well, feel free to watch it. But don't, unless you really like watching planes.
For the Fall Bomber's Moon Dance, I had a little more experience with doing my hair, makeup and even had some more clothes that we found on ebay. I was more than prepared this time...at least I thought I was.
This time around, I thought I was ready. I had remembered swing dance moves, I drank an Angry Orchard, knew which songs I wanted to dance to and even told Jalon that he only had to dance to 3 with me.
The first one, Moon River, is a waltz. For those of us that grew up in the Midwest, where it snows, we did dance in gym class during school. The waltz was one of the first dances I learned and never forgot. However, Jalon did not know how to waltz and even made fun of me for learning how to dance in gym class...as if I had an option. I spent that song teaching him how to waltz.
A brief interlude about my husband: He does not dance. He does not like to dance. He does not have the feet for dancing. At all. Combine all those and you have something like this:
I felt bad.
I didn't want to force him into doing something he didn't really want to do.
But there was one last song, my favorite one, I had been waiting for all night.
And when it finally came on, I bolted to the dance floor as fast as I could, turned around to look for my husband, (who I had thought was right behind me, excited to dance as well), but I could not see him. All of a sudden, a handsome stranger appeared in front of me.
He asked, "Would you like to dance?"
A small part of me (deep down inside) said "you shouldn't, your husband will be here in a second."
The bigger, more meaty part of me, said, "Dude...this is your favorite song, your husband is being slow so you will miss it and he won't have to dance. Plus, remember all those high school dances where you were never, EVER asked to dance? DO IT!!!"
I grabbed his hands, with a giant smile, and we hit the dance floor. On the way there, I warned him that I really had no idea what I was doing, but he just smiled and whipped me around that floor like I was a doll. It was awesome. Suddenly, I had moves I didn't know existed. Also, I had lots of sweat. All over.
I was so happy! I got to dance to my favorite song, the guy I was dancing with had some serious moves and didn't mind that I ruined them! This has never happened to me before. I love my husband, more than anything, but it was a nice little treat to feel special for those 2 minutes from some random stranger.
After the song ended and I headed back to my husband, where he was so patiently waiting for me, I apologized for doing that to him.
He sat there, holding a new beer, smiling at me. He told me it didn't really matter and he was glad I had fun.
You know why it didn't matter to him? Why he wasn't all jealous and upset that I ditched him to dance with some random guy?
Because he knew that random guy was HIRED to that. He was seeking out a girl to dance with, and found my pathetic, lonely butt and thought he scored big.
And my husband still owes me a dance.