By Chong Chee Kin

IT MAY still be early days, but I know where exactly I will be this weekend: Clubbing with my parents at Canto club Firefly at the Marriott Hotel.

Mind you, it would be my first time doing so and, chances are, awkward moments will be aplenty. But after seeing a group of elderly folk tearing up the dance floor there last weekend, I am convinced that every senior citizen is young at heart.

The group I met last week were all pushing 60 and beyond: too old to pull an all-nighter on the town but, as they showed me, not too old to know how to have fun.

The men, sporting paunches and bald spots, were in baggy polo T-shirts. Their wives were in tight cropped tops and gowns and had immaculately coiffed hair.

And I have never seen such spontaneity and a better-behaved bunch of partygoers at a club.

There was no wretched sight of a young girl cradling her head, her hair plastered all over her face, hunched over the kerb throwing up the contents of her dinner.

Or a drunk man jabbing fingers at other patrons and grunting gibberish over some slur, real or imaginary.

Instead, the elderly group showed their younger counterparts - who were in their mid-30s to early 40s - how to have a good time.

Recently, my colleague lamented in a column that Singapore is just not the place to have fun. I beg to differ. The very nature of fun is not confined within a physical location.

It resides in the heart.

And that was what that group showed me.

They pumped their fists in the air with wild abandon when the band played their favourite tunes, from oldies like One Way Ticket to Canto hits by Leslie Cheung, Alan Tam and Beyond.

They bopped their heads to the rhythm and rarely missed a beat. They swirled, they twirled and they jiggled.

What capped the evening for me was when a member of the group beckoned his friend's wife - who was wearing a satin gown - to join him on the dance floor.

He held her hand and pulled her to him. She glanced coyly, first at her husband and then at the friend, before shuffling on the dance floor - like a 16-year-old on her first date.

The expression on her face was priceless.

They were having so much more fun than many younger partygoers I saw in the clubs, who were so caught up with flaunting their wealth or looks or appearing to be having a good time that they simply forgot how to have fun.

It got me thinking: I would love to see my parents having a good time on the dance floor. After all, in his time, my father was a terror on the dance floor and a Limbo dance king.

Limbo what? Yes, it was that long ago.

I want to see my parents revisit their youth, and for me to witness - even for a fraction of a second - that special moment which would bring us all that much closer as a family.

The idea of clubbing with parents did not sit well with my friends.

All looked askance at me when I suggested heading down to Firefly with our respective parents for a novel night on the town. It was as if I had asked them to kindly pull out their fingernails just for the fun of it.

I pleaded: "Wouldn't you want to party with your parents, hang out, knock back a couple of drinks and chill out to good music?"

Hell, no, was their separate, but unanimous replies. It would be embarrassing, awkward and uncomfortable.

One friend said: "Why on earth would I want my parents to see how I get drunk and misbehave at the clubs? It'd be so awkward." But you know what?

I'm still going ahead with my plans, and he would be missing a helluva party.

myp@sph.com.sg

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