Sometimes, you just have to put something dumb on your head and dance, I guess. I mean that’s what people have been doing at frat parties for years—the lampshade effect or whatever you call it. There must be some sort of appeal to the Harlem Shake.
Maybe it’s the leadership aspect. For 15 full seconds, a singular person, a team captain or an alpha-dog starts the dance off—that’s a pretty big responsibility to take on, given only to the person with the highest intelligence, level of creativity, stage presence. For 15 seconds, he or she better be ready to shine.
The others, you ask? They don’t seem like the brightest bulbs in the supply closet if you know what I’m saying. They don’t even notice the one person, who is very obviously flailing about, until the bass drops (which is always a telltale sign something cool is about to go down)!
Once the bass drops, all bets are off. The room goes nuts. Arms and who knows what else are suddenly everywhere.
Boas, sunglasses, power tools, stuffed animals, masks, and pajamas magically appear. In some renditions of the Harlem Shake, pyrotechnics and dry ingredients have been used. Fire and flour. Now that’s eye catching.
Maybe it’s because there is no wrong way to do the Harlem Shake. Wear whatever. Do Whatever. Be whatever. Shake whatever yo momma gave ya.
Maybe it’s the fact everyone can do it. Fish. Babies. The Elderly. Even the engineering students here were willing to take one for the team. In my opinion, detention was totally worth 30 seconds of fame.
It’s one for all ages. I sure hope it sticks around, maybe even for longer than half a minute.
