A photo essay...
Brett and Ruby shine in the sunlight, dancing to The Jets
Eva knocking it out in low-res, baby
Andrea, Jamie, Ruby, and Jane challenge you to a dance off!
Kat gets down while a nearby employee gazes out from her corporate prison wishing she were us.
Our music man, Andrew Ox
Lucie wearing the Sparkle Jacket (a Hobby Horse Original)!
The first ever MAX rush hour dance party proved to be a startling success, despite the many challenges imposed upon us. Turns out, 8:30am is a little early for a party, and our crew was plagued by oversleep, lack of motivation, and tardiness. And it also turns out that boom boxes are not welcome in many of Portland's public spaces. We were repeatedly asked to turn the music off and were even threatened by a cop in Pioneer Square! Who knew, but "amplified music" is against the rules without a permit.
Dear fellow citizens of Portland: in what kind of city do we live? We live in a city in which ya gotta have a permit to get down! A PERMIT! TO GET DOWN! It's like Orwell's 1984. No, not really at all. It's more like Footloose. And I am Kevin Bacon, only with better hair, sparkles, and fifty percent more bitchin' dance moves.
But, all in all: awesome.
