Elman, Emily, Jessie and Victor: Dancing the night away.

The lights of a thousand electronic slot machines blink and glow in the cavernous lobby of Harrah’s Resort Southern California in Valley Center. The games have names like Buffalo Gold, Treasure Ball and Dragon Train. Hundreds of players sit in front of them, pushing buttons over and over, watching the digital wheels of fortune spin. It’s a bit overwhelming, so I initially ignore the sign projected onto the carpet telling me that the Event Center — where the Mavericks are opening for Dwight Yoakam tonight — is across the hall and to the right. Past Hell’s Kitchen, with its Gordon Ramsay menu; past Salt & Fin and its overflowing oyster bar; past Best of Cluck, with its witty name and tasty chicken tenders ($20 for six plus fries), and on into the spacious ballroom, with the stage at one end, the raised platforms at the other, and the many rows of banquet chairs in between.

The chairs don’t quite fill the room, though. There are wide strips of bare carpet in the corners on either side of the stage, and it’s in those corners that the dancers do their thing. The Mavericks make great music to dance to, transferring their bouncy or languishing melodies from singer to saxophone, guitar, accordion, trumpet, keyboard and drums. It’s probably good for other things too, but tonight it’s what gets people dancing. Lead singer Raul Malo looks a bit like Ricky Gervais and sounds a lot like Roy Orbison – except when he has to sound like BB King or Julio Iglesais. I just wanna dance the night away/ With señoritas who can sway…

A few people dance alone—notably a woman in a form-fitting cornflower blue dress and white cowboy boots, grooving determinedly. But most of the dancers are couples. Some are young—notably a twirling girl in a denim minidress and her baseball-capped boyfriend. (Later they’ll argue. She’ll throw down a printout of the band’s set list and walk away; he’ll leave it and go in another direction. But now she’s walking away, and turning back into him, over and over, an endless parade of breakups and reunions.) But most of the dancers are somewhere beyond the prime of youth, and it doesn’t matter at all.

A gentleman in a brown leather vest dances stiffly two-step with a lady in jeans and a white leather jacket. A woman in a flowing floral dress and chunky heels puts an arm around the neck of a man wearing khakis and brand new Adidas sneakers. A sprightly old hand in jeans and a button-down shirt sends his date – whose silver sequined tank top matches her ankle boots – across the floor. A gray-haired guy with a goatee in a shirt that looks like it’s made from an American flag slow dances with a girl in the band Cake’s famous short skirt and long jacket combo. Well, a long sweater anyway. Cowboy hats abound.

One couple moves with particular grace and ease: she with her palm facing out on his shoulder blade, he with his fingers spread and his palm just on her hip. His free hand wanders around the room as if to point the way to their next move. After the Mavericks finish their set, I track them down. Victor has come up from Ensenada; he’s here with Jessie. “The music is beautiful,” Victor says. “When I heard the music, my body moved. My body listened and said, ‘Move your damn ass, man!’ I dance banda, north, salsas, Cumbia – The wonderful world of Cumbia… Sometimes everyone dances the same at the same time, but I like to have my own style.”

Jessie says they usually go to concerts at the Pala, but tonight they’re here because they love the Mavericks and because they were invited by their friends Elman and Emily. “Their first date was Dwight Yoakam, 15 years ago,” Jessie says. “And here’s the catch: He convinced Emily by saying he loved to dance.”

“I’m a great dancer,” says Elman with a serious expression.

“He likes to dance, he likes to hike…” says Emily, remembering the line she was told.

“I’m very romantic!” Elman insists, adding that he is such an avid hiker that he “lives on Cowles Mountain and in Montserrat!” When she learned the truth, he says, “I had won her over. I had a beautiful place, all that good stuff.”

“But to be forgiven, you had to dance tonight!” Emily reminds him.

“It was great there,” says Elman. “They’re one of my favorite bands. Years ago we flew to Texas to see them at Gruene Hall, the oldest dance hall west of the Mississippi. When the old wooden floorboards go bad, they fill the room with metal license plates.”

Jessie signals that it’s time to go. “One of our other friends is friends with the lead singer, so she’s talking to him to see if we can maybe grab a drink or coffee with him after the concert. Mexican sweetbreads and hot chocolate with Raul Malo!”