"The people in this town don't see me. Not for what I really am." Sam tells him another option would be to suck it up and respect himself first by not being such a HUGE BABY, but I'm so sure Andy's hearing that. "Bud took me off a case, Sam. I don't know about you, but in my book that's a capital D-motion." Sam gets it, and changes his tune, apologizing; Andy promises he'll pull it together tomorrow, get back on the right path, but tonight he needs to lose it. Tonight, of all nights, with Maryann on table four, how could he not? Sam gets it, and nods, looking around at the rising chaos, anxious to give something back for Andy's honesty. "One of the things I set out to do here when I opened up here was have a place where you could come, get a drink, nobody would bother you to dance."
Andy agrees vociferously, and tenders up another story. It's kinda funny, I guess, but mostly interesting because it obviously means something huge to Andy but not to Sam, or us. "I hate to dance. This one time I was in a club in Shreveport, and I actually had a woman tell me I looked like a epileptic on meth." Sam is sad for him, and a bit touched by the way this story is related. Also weirded out. "Never again, Sam. Never again." He takes a pull off his beer and Sam heads back, into the dancing, taking away Andy's empties. I love much about this show, you might have noticed, but I really do love the way everybody remembers to love Andy. He's just the worst, and they give as good as they get, but when it's time to take care of Andy Bellefleur, no matter how bad he'll make you pay for it later, they all do it. He's used so well, because he never gets tamed no matter how many times it plays out. He's the
Michelle Forbes joined Sciorra and Russo on the ranks of my "It's Not Even Worth Questioning My Sexuality About This" list a long time ago, so this scene came as no surprise, but dang. She was a dancer, she comes to us from dancing, which should no longer be surprising at this point: Maryann stands up, all spooky, and begins to dance in earnest. First alone, then with a young guy; her arms go up, over her head, like a goddess. She wraps herself around him like a vine. A couple is hit with waves of it, and she dances toward them, drinking up their passion and their adoration. This tribute. She takes the man in her arms, and passes the wave to a couple of ho barflies in the corner, and spins into the center again. The men take hold of the women. A cowboy kisses his girl. She dances, uninhibited, alone. She is the only real thing here. It whirls around her. This tribute.