Herm
How did Herm get on the dance floor? What's the sitch?
Wow! That guy is KILLING it. Dude, dude, are you seeing this guy? You gotta see this guy. Yeah, the one there, with the button-up partially untucked from his baggy corduroys. He must be, what, 65? 70? He’s pretty limber though! I mean, I can tell he doesn’t exercise regularly. And the redness of his face worries me a bit. But look at him out there, in the crowd, radiating confidence. He’s got a decent repertoire of moves too, I saw him Cat Daddy a bit ago, and that looks like an old fashioned two-step/stank-face combo.
Oh shit! I think a dance circle is forming around him! He’s throwing down some powerful energy to be able to clear floor space like that. And what is he doing with his arms? Is that some kind of postmodern robot? Whatever it is, it’s nasty. And it must be much more difficult with those penny loafers and abdominal girth, no offense. This is inspiring.
“Herm! Herm! Herm! Herm! Herm! Herm! Herm! Herm! Herm!”
The crowd somehow found out his name is Herm? Or else they reached a consensus that, if forced to guess, his name is most likely Herm? This guy is legitimately making all of our nights.
HERMHERMHERM HERRRRMMMMMM!!!
HERM HR-HERM HR-HERM HR-ERRMMMMMMM!!!
Look, look, the DJ is doing a double sideways-gun-point down at him!! He’s getting a shout out from the booth!!
HERMHERM HERMMMMMMM!!!
Did they input a specific sound on the DJ controller pad for this guy? It sounds like the classic DJ air horn, but somehow it’s also clearly saying the name Herm…
HERMMM HRMHRMHRMHRM HERMMMMM!!
That DJ acknowledgement seemed to stimulate him even further! I didn’t think it was possible. Popping, locking, dabbing, shuffling… He’s in a full on frenzy. No, no, he wouldn’t… is he going to… he’s spinning on his head! Are you seeing all of this? I can’t believe this is happening; I will never be as cool as that guy. Once he finishes this performance we should all go home, because there won’t be any dance left in the building.
I need to know. I won’t be able to sleep tonight unless I find out. Who is he? Where did he come from? How did he get on the dance floor?
Luckily, in this day and age, all of that information exists and is likely accessible. It was written down at some point and saved on a drive or in a cloud or on some napkins in a drawer or something. And the Google crawler will probably be able to track it down, no matter where it is hiding. I just need enough cross sectional data to pinpoint the person of interest… Right now all I have is, “Herm,” and “Dance God,”… that might not be enough.
Looks like he’s ending his routine. No one can drop it low at that pace forever, not even Herm.
He definitely deserves this hero’s exit and ovation. That bro is asking Herm to sign his Nikes, lol. And all of those young women are following him! Is that one kissing his neck? This is crazy.
Who is this pleasant grey haired lady at the edge of the dance floor, with hands on hips? Looks like Herm came to the club with his wife! She must be so proud. But also should make sure to swat away all of Herm’s new groupies. She’s wearing an “Iowa Energy,” t-shirt… I think that’s some sort of minor league basketball team… and might be the last piece of this puzzle!
If we now input, “Herman,” and “Dance God,” and “Iowa Energy Basketball,” perhaps we can piece together the story of this man and what I can only assume has been his incredible life. One doesn’t just overwhelm an entire club through the power of dance solo without having been through some wild shit.
What is this third link here… “Herman Schneider’s Memoirs.” This might be what I’m looking for.
“My name is Herman Roy Schneider and I’m a 67 year old caucasian male from the city of Urbandale, just outside of Des Moines, Iowa. I’m not sure how well you know the greater Des Moines metro area… but if you take I-235 W from center city, continue onto I-80 E, then exit onto Hickman road going west and take it past the Heartland Presbyterian Church (on the left), my wife and I live just a block south, on NW 149th, in a pale yellow house with a recently mown lawn. I would be more cautious about giving out this information publicly, but there are so many other pale yellow houses on the street you really couldn’t be sure which one is mine.
“My wife Joyce Marie Schneider and I have been happily married for the past 31 years. I was married previously to my high school sweetheart Meredith, and even had two children together. But we started to grow apart in our late twenties. I don’t want to bore you, but, briefly, Meredith had always been curious about living an exciting life in a big city on one of the coasts, while I was content to put down roots and a deposit on a house, settling with our young children…”
Wow… I’m so bored. I wish I had never sought his backstory. Even this brief introduction has tainted my memory of Herm and his transcendent dance moves. Also, Herm really shouldn’t make his Google Doc public while still working on the memoir, no matter how mundane. I suspect he operates at a pretty low internet-proficiency-level.
God damn it Herm, why? Why couldn’t you have just stayed an anonymous? Why couldn’t I have left the cat in the bag? There are no filters left to separate the information people want to know from the information they should know, the information they can handle. I wanted to know Herm’s backstory after watching his body move in ways I didn’t think possible for someone of his age, race, and apparent fitness level… but my insatiable thirst for context led me down a dark path, to a cul-de-sac in a Des Moines suburb, where an inspirational rhythm master was revealed to be just another disappointing step-father.
Nothing is sacred, and it is easier than ever to prove that. Maybe next time I’ll think twice before acting on my curiosity. Maybe next time I’ll leave Herm where I found him… on the dance floor.
