White Men Can't Dance, Unless They're Drunk

This is the story of a young man by the name of Finecces O’Conner. This lad lived long ago on the British Isles. This, however, occurs before those misty islands were called that. Finecces O’Conner was a man after an Irish stereotype’s heart. He loved to drink, fight, and “spend time” with the fair lasses of the region. This is the story of how he, in his own drunken way, created an Irish tradition that lasts until this very day.1

Finecces was no average drunkard. He was special. You see, no matter how drunk Finecces got, his hand never became unsteady. After consuming many a pint at the local pub he could always throw a punch, pinch a waitress, or light a cigarette without any fear of hitting the wrong man, grabbing something he didn’t intend to, or lighting his face on fire. His feet, however, did not retain this fortitude. He fell over and stumbled just as much as any other drunk.2

On the morning of the day that this story occurs, Finecces found himself in the bed of a girl who seemed much pretty the night before, incidentally, she also seemed to have much less of a moustache the night before. He had awoken long before she had. Sadly, for Finecces, her father was not so lethargic in his hour of rising. Shortly thereafter Finecces found himself in a mud puddle outside the house. He seemed to have many more bruises and far fewer clothes than he remembered having the night before. Finecces did not let himself be bothered by such things though, and he began his day.3

More oft than not father’s did not enjoy Finecces’s presence with their daughters, nor his subsequent theft of their maidenhood. He found himself being run out of houses in the wee hours of the morn quite often. Getting injured and losing clothes were commonplace for Finecces. However there was one thing he could not stand. Whenever Finecces got his feet wet, he would do anything to dry them. Once, in a drunken stupor he stepped in a puddle. Shortly thereafter he thrust his feet into a fire. Luckily his companions threw him out of the fire before his shoes ignited.4

As Finecces returned home that morning he realized something horrible. He had left his money in his pants. Which happened to be on the floor of that thing’s, er…young lass‘s, bedroom. This meant that if Finecces wished to become inebriated that evening he would have to work quite hard that day. 5

Throughout the day Finecces did many an odd job to earn his drinking money for the evening. He helped build a small building. He helped till a field. He even took some money from a small child to beat up some bullies - anything to get money for the drink.6

That evening Finecces wound up at the pub as he always did. He was drinking quite heavily, and getting rather rowdy. He was arm wrestling, slapping girls buttocks, smoking, and yelling insults like no other. Sadly, this evening something happened to Finecces that would change his life forever.7

Finecces had drank quite a lot at this point, and had the brilliant idea that it was time for a fight. As you can guess, judging from the lass he woke up with that morning, good judgment is not one of Finecces’s strong points, especially when he’s drunk. The group of men he decided to fight with were not only less drunk than him, but also much larger. The fight lasted all of eleven seconds. Then Finecces found himself in a shallow river outside the pub. The men who threw him out were roaring with laughter at the spectacle of Finecces trying to get up. When he finally managed it, Finecces noticed where he was. He was in a river, and his feet were soaking wet.8

Luckily for Finecces he had taken his shoes off earlier that night. All he had to do to dry his feet was shake them off. He lifted his left leg and shook it in the air quickly. It was dry, but he realized his other foot wasn’t. So he lifted it and shook it too. In his drunken state Finecces didn’t realize that every time he did this he was putting his other foot back in the river. This only made the men laugh harder. Finecces kept this up for a long time. As time passed his tempo increased, as did the flourish in his steps. With single-minded determination he focused on only moving is feet. His upper body remained completely rigid as his legs flailed everywhere.9

The men watching thought this was utterly hilarious, and soon everyone in the pub was out watching Finecces and laughing uproariously at him. Eventually, Finecces ran out of energy and fell back into the river. The good people of the pub picked him up, took him inside, and set him on a stool. People were buying him drinks left and right. Finecces had no idea what was going on, but there was free drink involved, so he was more than happy to be a part of it. That night Finecces was carried home by a group of greatly amused locals. He slept like the dead, which he was actually very close to being. People didn’t know about alcohol poisoning back then.10

Word of Finecces spread. He was now a local legend, and the story of his actions was spreading across the countryside. Soon the story of Finecces’s Dance in the River was being told by people all across the land of Éire. People began. imitating the dance for the purpose of entertainment. As time passed the name of the dance changed. Finecces’s Dance in the River, became the Finecces’s Dance of the River, which became the Dance of the River as Finecces’s name was forgotten. This was not the end of the name changing. Eventually it became Step Dance of the River, then Step River Dancing, and eventually simply Step Dancing. Recently however, the name River Dance has been recovered from the dusty footnotes of history. The name of Finecces has faded into nothingness however. Not the he ever really realized the great tradition he had created anyway.11