Dance Floors: Where Normal People Go to Lose Control

I was at a work conference recently, and something caught my eye. It was not unique to this conference. It happens anywhere with a designated dance floor. Nightclubs, weddings, pubs with questionable carpet, even cruise ships. Every venue with a dance floor has the same strange phenomenon.

The dance floor sits there like a shiny rectangle of possibility. It does not matter if it is in the middle of the room, tucked in a corner, or awkwardly near the buffet table. It is the only part of the venue where the flooring is different, smooth, shiny, and full of promise, while everywhere else is carpet, tiles, or sticky lino designed to stop people from falling over.

Around the edges, people gather. They drink, chat, nibble on canapés, and pretend not to be watching. The dance floor becomes a stage surrounded by spectators, like a boxing ring. Then it begins.

Someone, a brave soul fuelled by a mix of confidence, cocktails, and the opening beat of Uptown Funk, makes their way to the floor. They walk like a completely normal person. Casual, calm, maybe even a bit hesitant. Then it happens. The moment one foot touches that dance floor, something takes over.

The hips start moving, shoulders roll, and arms begin doing their own thing entirely. It is as if an invisible force flicks a switch and turns a mild-mannered professional into a backup dancer for Beyoncé. The transformation is instant. One second, they are from Accounts Payable. Next, they are feeling the music.

This same force does not discriminate. The CEO, the shy intern, the person who said they were just watching, no one is safe. Once the dance floor claims you, you are no longer in control and the music (whether you even like the song or not) becomes your master.

Then comes the other mystery, the return. The very moment one foot steps off that sacred flooring, the spell breaks. The hips stop, the shoulders settle, they walk away calm and collected, as though the past thirty minutes of uncoordinated glory never happened. They might even straighten their jacket, grab a drink, and nod politely to colleagues who witnessed the entire episode.

There is also the accidental victim, the person trying to cross the dance floor to get to the bar or the bathroom. They step onto it, not realising what will happen next, and immediately their body betrays them. A little shoulder shimmy, a tiny foot tap, a rogue body roll. Their eyes say, “I am not dancing,” yet their body says, “I have been chosen.”

It is one of life’s great mysteries. Science may never be able to explain it. Some say it is the vibration of the bass through the floorboards. Others believe it is years of suppressed energy bursting out (which I think is likely more the case). Whatever it is, the dance floor remains a place where logic disappears, and rhythm takes the wheel.

At this particular conference, I saw an esteemed colleague who usually wrangles tough deals with sharp business minds. Calm, composed, never flustered. The next day he said he had been pressured to dance. I gently reminded him that he had danced to the entire Spice Girls - Tell Me What You Want song, smiling the whole way through. That was not pressure, that was the dance floor devil taking full control - or just his love of the Spice Girls and dancing!

So, when you later cannot remember any of your moves, and your so-called friends start re-enacting them in front of you, do not feel shame. You were possessed by the evil dance floor devil. Remind them that true friendship is about retrieval, not ridicule. If they just stood there filming or laughing instead of dragging you off that floor, you have every right to ask, what kind of friend are you?

Or better yet, next time make them come to the bathroom with you, nudge them onto the dance floor, and take your own video. Friendships should be equal - but be prepared for that friend to pull you onto the floor once they get started....as the dance floor devil loves company!