The other day I waited for the 6 at 51st and Lex, late for a Tuesday, 12 or so, among a curious band that included two lost stewardesses and a short Hispanic man leafing through an enormous coffee table book about George W. Bush. A man emerged from the corridor and traipsed past us, chanting-hollering: "I got the last dance. I'm a gonna get the last dance. The last dance. Yep. I'm gonna do the boogaloo. I got the last dance…"