You may note that I’ve elected to categorize the following in “Dancing — Ballroom” I chose that category simply because I lack one called “Personal Disasters of Epic Proportions.”
At 5:55 p.m. last Friday evening, we were full of enthusiasm and hope, eager to conquer the romantic and brave new world of ballroom dancing.
Two hours later we were shambling, twitching, sweating (well, MLB was merely glowing) step-counting robots whose fantasies were as shattered as our dance “moves.” My wife later confessed that her dreams were filled with the mantra, “itty-bitty step…itty-bitty step…” For my part, all I managed to retain was that I, being the man, always start with my left foot. Everything thereafter is a blur; may God have mercy on my partner.
We arrived at the dance studio precisely on time, only to discover that everyone else was early. It reminded me of a junior high function (except for the male-female pairings); each couple stood in their own circle of personal space, sizing up the others (“yeah, I think I take him in the waltz; not sure about the mambo, however”), hoping to find someone who looked klutzy enough to divert attention from themselves. The demographic was pretty consistent…middle-aged WASPish, like us, with a single GenX couple who seemed to be second-guessing their Friday evening plans. There were about ten couples in all, plus two women without partners (and I gave them extra credit for their courage). MLB and I were fortunate in that we were friends with one of the couples; they had, in fact, provided us with the motivation to sign up for the class, and it remains to be seen whether forgiveness will be forthcoming.
After a five minute introduction by our instructor, a tall brunette named Bernadette, the guys were told to line up across the room and we launched immediately into the first steps of our dancing careers. We started with the foxtrot, and I encountered my first humiliation of the evening (I got used to them, by the way).
Apparently, in ballroom dancing it’s considered to be the suave and gentlemenly thing to keep your knees together with feet pointed straight ahead (“pretend you’re wearing corduroy pants, and the ribbing rubs with each step,” Bernadette helpfully suggested). Well, that ain’t happenin’ with yours truly. I’m 6′ 1″ but I’d be 6′ 4″ if I weren’t bowlegged, and one foot pretty much refuses to point straight ahead, if given a choice. We all had a big laugh over that, and I’m sure the others were still laughing later after I sneaked out and let the air out of their tires.
Despite my apparent physical shortcoming, I managed to get through the evening with a minimal amount of damage to either my partner or the other students. The least comfortable moment of the class was the one time we had to switch partners and I ended up with the GenX girl, who was about 4′ 11″ and had that deer-in-the-headlights look as she contemplated my size 10s next to her (very fashionable) size 2s.
That encounter is now, thankfully, a blur; all I remember is her saying at the end, “you take really big steps, don’t you?”
As this class is entitled “An Introduction to Ballroom Dancing,” we went wide but not deep. We covered the foxtrot, waltz, cha-cha, rumba, mambo, tango and merengue. My personal favorite is the merengue, as it was the last one we tried and thus the only one I remember. Also, the merengue seems to consist basically of walking, and while my carriage is not a thing of beauty*, I mastered that skill a number of years ago and it’s finally coming in handy.
Lessons learned? First, ballroom dancing isn’t for wimps. Those who do it well are working harder than I ever imagined, especially with the latin steps. We used muscles that apparently lay back on a chaise lounge and sip iced tea during cycling and running workouts. Second, it’s fun, even if you’re really bad at it. In fact, for a while anyway, I think being bad at it is part of the fun. Expectations are low; everyone’s messing up. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to capitalize on that situation, but it’s the best plan I’ve got at this point.
We’re facing three more lessons, one each Friday evening in May. But the only light at the end of this tunnel is an oncoming freight train, as the ladies have discovered that Midland has, of all things, a Ballroom Dance Society, where members get all gussied up once a month and go to the Petroleum Club for a couple of hours of gliding across the floor to the accompaniment of live music. The ladies think it all sounds very romantic and cultured. I can’t repeat what the guys think.
*Extra credit to anyone who can identify the culturally iconic source of that phrase.
Technorati tag: Ballroom Dance
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I’m guessing Strictly Ballroom, but only because I know you’ve seen it, not because I remember it from the movie. =)
The Beau is wanting to try ballroom dancing lessons, but I’m skeptical for a few reasons:
1. I don’t know if he has good rhythm yet. I know that I do. 😉
2. Our heights – he’s 6’2″ where I’m 5’6″.
3. The sweating thing. I don’t like to glow.
I’m guessing Strictly Ballroom
No, and I wouldn’t expect you to know this one…you’re much too young!
As far as your reasons for holding back, none of them are worth considering, given that he wants to do it! Do you have any idea how many women across this nation would kill to have their husbands or boyfriends suggest taking dance lessons?!
The height thing wouldn’t be a problem; your height differentials are the same as mine and MLB’s, and it’s not a problem for us. (We have a lot of other problems, but not that.) And, if you have rhythm, you won’t be “glowing,” because you won’t be working as hard as those of us who don’t! Trust me on this. (Of course, if TB doesn’t have rhythm, you might work up a glow trying to stay out of his way. 😉
I should clarify that by “other problems,” I mean on the dance floor. 😉
Well, I know the Jackson 5 (or Michael Jackson) had a song called “Dancing Machine.” But maybe it’s James Brown?
I should clarify that by “other problems,” I mean on the dance floor. 😉
Heh. I knew what you meant, but the other is important to know, too…for the future. 😉
So is it a reference to some Fred Astaire movie?
“We arrived at the dance studio precisely on time, only to discover that everyone else was early.”
It sounds like college! On top of that, the prof would give you a dirty look as if you arrived late, just the same. At least in your case, the class hadn’t started!
It sounds like you had, ah, fun. (in a sort of embarrassing way)! I suppose it’s like other skills. The fun starts once you’ve mastered it.
As for the extra credit reference, is it John Keats?
Jared, Jen, Mr. Freen…sorry, no cigar (although, Mr. Freen, the source might well have used Keats for his inspiration). But, you’re all being much too cerebral; you need to listen to your animal instincts. 😉
Bill, my man! Not only are you a gentleman, but also a learned scholar of letters. You are perzactly right (as Pogo hisself might have said). That passage is one of my all-time favorites in cartoondom.
Jen, listen to Bill…the man’s wise!
Ok, Ok! I’ll tell The Beau that we shall dance.
Wow. 😆
Yeah, and you have to blog about it, too. Inquiring minds want to know!
I don’t see the two-step on the menu.
Scott, that’s a different degree plan.
Hmm, and like a complete moron, I assumed the footnote referenced your title (thus my stupid “Dancing Machine” response), instead of THE ASTERISKED PHRASE IN YOUR POST.
I know how footnotes work. Honest.
I wouldn’t have gotten it right, but I do know what/who “Pogo” is. When I was in the 7th grade I actually discovered an edition of Walt Kelly’s Pogo Collection at my local library and spent the next week absorbing it.
Jared, I figured you were responding to a different question than I was asking. I’d be the last person in the world to suggest that you don’t understand footnotes. 😉
I think the world would be a better place if Pogo was required reading in our public schools.
I am so impressed that you had the moxy to attend the first class!! And you are right, most women would kill (maime or torture) to have their other half suggest something this radical.
I think you should get extra points because you are trying ballroom dancing. Most men I’m acquainted with would consider, at least briefly, taking country and western dance lessons, but ballroom?? Not a chance below the equator!!
So hang in there and you two should master this in no time flat!! And of course you have to join the local Society so you have somewhere to show off these newly aquired skills!!!
Katt, thanks for the encouragement, although I’m not sure you’re doing me a favor by pushing the Ballroom Society thing.
But, you’re probably right; it would be a shame if I learn to dance like Richard Gere but can’t prove it! 😉
If we dance it shall be blogged. Did you doubt that? 😀
Hey, way to go, ya’ll! It will only get easier with time and you’ll be having a real blast before you know it!
Richard Gere has absolutely NOTHING on you, I’m betting. (But I WOULD like to be a fly on the wall one of these upcoming Friday nights!)
Denise, if you look up the definition of “blast” you’ll note that it often connotes destructive forces. 😉
OK, Sherry…what’s the deal? Do I owe you money or something? And I think you and Robert would be great candidates for joining us out on that floor! (I know you guys are skilled two-steppers…but what about the tango? Or the merengue? It’s time to expand your horizons!)