I’ve never been one for parties and loud noise and I’ve never particularly enjoyed crowds, sweat and screaming, but I can admit that I was excited for the 2012 Homecoming dance. I anticipated a night of music, dancing and laughter. That wasn’t what I got.

After spending ages looking through more stores than I can name to find the right dress, battling my friend Laura over foundation and peering anxiously into a mirror to make sure my eyeliner was straight, I walked into the Chap Court for my first high school dance.

The room wasn’t yet crowded and the sound of swing music filled the air, true to the “Roaring ’20s” theme. I greeted friends and acquaintances, threw dignity to the winds, and accepted dancing lessons from a boy who knew the basics of swing.

Then, at 9:30, the music changed.

“What is this?” I said, turning to a friend. “Is this Dubstep?”

She shrugged and we danced the best we could, thinking that the uncommon music selection wouldn’t last long.

After another 20 minutes however, the “wub wub wub” began to grate on my ears and I had run out of creative options for dancing. All I could do was hop half-heartedly and try to tap my foot to the ever-changing beat. My fellows were at a loss as well, so we drifted outside.

Sitting in the damp, chilly air wasn’t particularly fun, but it was better than standing inside and having to scream for conversation to be heard. We kept waiting for the music to change, waiting for more swing, for pop, for hip-hop, for something that would get us moving and singing, something that we could actually dance to.

It never came.

There was still a good-sized crowd inside, bouncing up and down for lack of a better option, but a lot of people had left. Laura and I stayed until the end, holding out for a change of music, but our hopes died as midnight rolled around and we walked out the door to my mom’s car, Dubstep still pounding in our brains. It hadn’t been a bad night, but the whole affair had been rather disappointing. I had come to a dance only to spend the majority of the night on a damp stone in the rainy courtyard.

I hadn’t expected a huge variety of music. Not a huge fan of the styles considered mainstream for high school kids, I never get my first choice at events. However, I can dance to pop, and everyone can sing along to the songs that dominate local radios; while the tunes may be hard to differentiate, they are, at least, recognizable tunes. I would chose pop over Dubstep for a dance any day.

I’m not criticizing anyone who listens to the synthesized beats and I have no problem with the genre. In fact, I was quite impressed by the complexity of the Dubstep that was played and I’m grateful that we had music at all. My respect and thanks go out to both the artists and the Student Council for arranging the whole thing; I merely question the logic that goes into making the majority of music at a dance something that very few people can actually dance to.