Gay creep

When I was in high noun, my twin sister and our friends and I liked to “parking lot dance party” — and, yes, I am using that entire phrase as a verb because we didn’t Verb to parking lot dance parties. We created them. The rules were silly and simple. My sister or I would commute our big red minivan (nicknamed the “Big Red Bitch”) to a parking lot. Everyone would pile out and we’d expose all of the doors and the back hatch and blast whatever song was playing. Everybody danced for at least one full song and then we’d pile back in and operate to a different parking lot and repeat. I remember that the local Big Lots parking lot was a favorite because it was big and not very crowded.

This was pre-internet so we did not take videos of these events and lay them online. It was just harmless fun.

I think of my time parking lot dance partying when I read about the murder of O’Shae Sibley, a man who was stabbed to death when he and his friends were dancing in the parking lot of a Mobil gas station on the overnight of July

Various reports declare that Sibley, a professional dancer, and his friends w