White People Dancing: There’s a moment in every wedding, when both aisles of party let loose. The shoes come off. The ties unravel. Mom starts singing That’s Amore. Maybe it’s that fourth glass of Chardonnay, or the shared relief that the toasts are done and the cake didn’t collapse. Perhaps everyone is just high on love. For a brief, evanescent period, I get to witness otherwise upright adults in a pure state of uninhibited rapture. Its a beautiful thing, even at its ugliest.