Rock of Ages 18 - 30

"Everyday I'm shufflin'."

That monotone voice and the beat behind it will not leave my brain. I went to a YSA (Young Single Adult, in Mormon lingo) conference this weekend in Huntsville, and the theme was Rock: A Sure Foundation. The theme song was LMFAO's "Party Rock Anthem". If you are unfamiliar with that song, for the love of all things holy don't click on that link, unless you want to be shuffle dancing to that tune in your head all week while your co-workers stare at you in horror. If you feel even the slightest compulsion to click on it, I suggest shutting your computer off right now and backing away slowly.

I did have a really good time at this conference, though. It started Friday night with a dance at the church. It's hard to explain a YSA dance to those who haven't been to one before, but it's very similar to the dances you went to in middle school, except that most everyone is in their twenties. The awkwardness, punch made with Sprite, dancing very far apart, Cotton Eye Joe - they're all there. I imagine to an outsider that it would be very surreal, like dances or clubs in the movies where the background characters are gently swaying and rocking with room for several football games between them, and not at all like real life clubs that are a free-for-all wrestling match where you can only use your hips.

After the dance a few of us went to IHOP, where we made friends with a drunken, homeless man who was eating people's leftovers. He never said his name, but he looked like a Dwayne. Anyway, a high school kid saw that Dwayne was eating scraps, and gave the waitress $10 to buy him a real dinner, but he refused and said he was okay with what he had scrounged. He had been talking to us intermittently throughout his dinner, and at one point he turned serious and asked us, "Right before you die, what would make you the happiest?" I was caught off guard by the depth of Dwayne's query. Here was this man, liquored up and contently eating Brett's hashbrowns, and he was searching for answers. In my mind I created a backstory for what lead him to this discussion. Maybe he had a wife and several little Dwaynelets somewhere. Maybe he wanted off the streets but was caught in a vicious cycle of hard living that he could not escape. He motioned for me to answer first, and after a moment of thinking I replied, "Family and friends." He asked each person at the table the same question, and most gave the same answer as I did. Finally, we turned the question on him.

"You know what would make me the happiest?"

I waited for his sad story, for some insight to how he got where he was in life.

"A giant rainbow," he said, his hands cupped and his arms outlining an arch, " and Nickelback playing like a #$@%!*(expletive redacted)!"

We all burst out laughing. Dwayne might have his deep days where he longs for a better life and for friends to be by his side, but that night at IHOP all he wanted was to see his favorite band playing underneath a rainbow.

For you, Dwayne. For you.

That would not be my last encounter with drunken homeless people this weekend, though. The next morning we gathered for a service project with this organization, and we drove out into the outskirts of Huntsville to a small building on a dillapidated street. A man came out and told us we would be cleaning up camps. "Ooo like a scout camp!" I thought. 

Nope. Hobo camps.

Over 100 homeless people live in tents underneath the interstates in Huntsville. We helped clean up the sites that had been abandoned as groups of homeless people watched and chatted with each other. Again, I felt bad and wondered what had led them here to live in squallor. I'm sure everyone has their own unique story, but as we cleaned out bottle after bottle of whiskey I began to understand. 

On a lighter and yet more terrifying note, while walking to another camp site I saw the absolute biggest spider I have ever seen in real life. It was just walking down the street, probably hungry and looking for stray dogs or unattended toddlers. I'm serious, this spider was friggin' huge. I would have tried to squish it, but if I succeeded I would've drowned in the resultant tide of spider guts, and if I failed I would have been punished with eight roundhouse kicks to the face. If Hannibal had known about these spiders, he would have used them instead of elephants to cross the Alps. Partially out of fear and partially out of respect, I tossed it my wallet and car keys.

Ok, so now that you've seen the photo you may think I was over-exaggerating. But what if I told you that the hand in the picture belongs to a giant who can palm bowling balls like a bunch of grapes? Well it's not, it's Art's hand, and he's of average height and hand size. The point is - that spider was big, and I don't like spiders.

The last activity of the conference was a tour of Cathedral Caverns in Woodville. It holds four world records for caves as mentioned on its website here. The caverns are sprawling and beautiful, and they make you feel small and insignificant. Our tour guide had the thickest natural Southern accent, the kind Northerners use when they're making fun of us, and she had something funny to say about each formation and landmark she pointed out. She would make a great female lead in the next Larry the Cable Guy summer blockbuster.

After the cave a few of us drove to Dreamland for some barbecue and to unwind. This was one of the best YSA conferences I've been to in a while. Awkward dancing, gargantuan spiders, and caves - what more could a man ask for? But really, seeing so many people this weekend who were down and in a dark place made me very grateful for a roof over my head and food on my table. And friends to shuffle with.

"Shake that."