Being a male dancer isn’t exactly what people think. Sure, there are flashing lights, over-the-top costumes, and women screaming like it’s the Beatles’ second coming. But most of it is actually logistics: sore calves, too much baby oil, and figuring out how to get five guys into one tiny dressing room without accidentally mooning each other. But every now and then, there’s a night that sticks with you forever. For us, it was “The Dog Food Incident.”