As the airplane taxied down the runway, the cabin crew announced the break-dancing competition. I was to go first. My performance was lacklustre, under-rehearsed and embarrassing. I received a smattering of applause.
Second to the stage was a young lad whose moves were smooth and energetic, who had brought his own DJ, and who also presented a Japanese fable in shadow puppet form on the walls of the plane. The plane rocked with applause.
Later on the same flight I met a group of librarians who didn’t refer to my humiliating dance-off. We chatted about what we planned to do in Boston.