Watching DM unfold from the outside was like living an episode of a TV show where the teenage son rebels against his parents, only to discover all of the sacrifices they make for him. I’m that teenage son. At the end of DM 2006, I wasn’t sure why I had danced for 30 hours straight. Sure, I helped raise money for an amazing cause benefiting many people, but did I really have to put myself physical and mental pain to do it? I left DM thinking none of what I went through was remotely necessary, and that I had kinda wasted 30 hours of my life.

Flash forward to 2007. I decided I wouldn’t dare waste my time at DM again. But I ended up covering this year’s incarnation of the philanthropic event, and actually ended up putting more time into my blog posts than the actual event last year. Heck, right now, DM has been over for three hours and most sane people who attended are sleeping by now. I’m still waxing poetic.

Last year during breakfast, I just wanted some damn bagels before I lost consciousness. I didn’t give half a thought about any of the decorations or visual presentations at DM. This year, I saw the Food Committee set up the mass quantities of breakfast food, just so dancers could have a nice morning meal. I saw dedicated people spend tons of time making sure the decorations are great. I saw first-hand how difficult it is to put on an event of this magnitude, and just how skilled and focused the DM committee members were in making sure everything went right.

I also discovered how unique DM is. Stick hundreds of strangers in a room filled with super-loud music and tell them they can’t sit down, even for a second, and what do you think is going to happen? Most logical people would say Battle Royale times a thousand, but at DM people unite to have a good time. Call it shared suffering, but DM makes people hug one another and sing “Stacy’s Mom” in unison. What all the dancers do, not just by raising money but also dancing to raise awareness (a fact my cynical 18-year-old self missed last time around) is a great good that should be celebrated.

As I was snapping photos of DM’s last dance tonight I felt something bizarre: I wanted to be one of the dancers again. I wanted to move back and forth with no purpose and enjoy it every second. I wanted to feel like someone had just hit my feet numerous times with a lead pipe. And I wanted to feel, at the moment the final donation total was unveiled, that I had done some real good in the world.