So, is it weird that I want to set up a permanent limbo pole in my apartment? I went to the Travel Show this weekend in hopes of finding a great deal on my next adventure. I was so overwhelmed with choices, I couldn’t decide. So I left with a bag full of brochures and an incredible urge to limbo.

As I strolled through the Caribbean section, I became fixated on Jamaica. Not because of the island, reggae or even the weather. It was the “show” that sucked me in.

A Jamaican man was up on stage with a reggae band showing off his “skills” at limbo. He was wearing silvery spandex pants and a leather belt with silver studs that dropped down like a loin cloth… And, that’s it. I know; seriously.

The show was part of a competition. The best limbo-er would win a trip for two to Jamaica. So, the “star” went through the audience looking for competitors. He carried the females to the stage like Tarzan rescuing Jane. I was completely in awe. I desperately wanted to join in the fun but my arms were weighed down with my purse and a plastic bag filled with useless brochures.  (I knew damn well the bag was going to sit in my kitchen unopened for at least a month before I threw it out.)

During the show, Tarzan demonstrated how it was done for each of the pole heights. I couldn’t help but admire his flawlessly cut pectoral region as he sashayed back and forth, rotating his hips in all kinds of directions, to loosen up before he glided under the pole. As the limbo stick got lower, he removed his only excess piece of clothing, the loin cloth belt.

Well, can I just tell you? I have never dated a Jamaican man but I may need to explore that a little further. That was 3 days ago, I’ve been practicing with my Swiffer hovering over kitchen chairs ever since.

This year’s winner was a skinny little, early 20-something. Next year’s winner will be a curvaceous, late 30-something.