Tony greeted our class
by asking if we wanted to continue the Rumba from last week.
(Which we didn’t do.)
We all shouted, “No!” Instead
he decided to do something new, Tango.
Mr. Short Term Memory
(but still a heck of a teacher) started us back at the beginning. Therefore, we did extra good. I don’t believe this will help us in public.
There’s not a lot of Tangos at weddings these days.
We spend most of our
class refining that dance. Then, because
it was “date night” again and we could stay, freakin’ Samba again.
I did somewhat better
for the two seconds we spent on basic, and flat out refused to change partners
for fear of killing a stranger with my random attempts to maintain bounce.
I did step on Rosa’s
feet a little, but it was her fault for being Latin and trying to do a real
Samba instead of the Ballroom variety.
I continued to boycott
partner changing for the safety for those around me while on a quest for the
beat once we switched to Salsa.
Forgetting the steps didn’t help my hunt much.
At one point during a
complicated turn, I ended up grabbing my own face.
Sure my dancing will
never impress the influx of younger Latin students in the class, but I can
still make ‘em laugh.
The turn was followed by
some crazy dip things. Between my knees
and Rosa’s vertigo, we’re lucky we survived till he switched to Jive/Swing.
Because it was quick change
night, we switched over to Hustle before we decided if we were doing Triple
or Single Step.
Tony picked out some
Lady Spinning moves. (Yes, I’m very technical.) Since the guy doesn’t do
anything for them, he pointed at me and said, “For you.”
It’s nice to have an
instructor who knows your range.
Still, Hustle has a lot
of turns, and I was good and dizzy when we made the final change to Tango for a
strong finish.
Date night lost a little
of its glitter since our regular diner was being refurbished, leading us to
what is now referred to in our home as, “The Crappy Replacement Diner.”
Week 8
There was Swing
happening when we got there, going back to the beginning is always a good move
for me.
Sharon was the Phake
Phoebe of the week, and helped Tony show us the turns and separations again.
I knew the steps, I liked
the music, and I could find the beat.
Yet, my legs insisting
on stopping occasionally for no reason.
Perhaps I need to find dance classes that do not take place after full,
grueling days at work.
Half way through our
class, we switched to Salsa, and my beat finding time came to an abrupt
end. Rosa taking off into Latin land did
not help this.
I was kind of getting
the new steps, in theory, leading me to try to be civil at the call to change
partners. No one else switched, and I
ended up with one of the non-Latin ladies.
We stumbled around each other clueless and clunky a bit before deciding
it was better to injure someone we knew and returning to our respective
partners.
Some more advanced steps
were hurled our way. We did all right
with the swivel, as Rosa’s hips were genetically geared for it, and my job
entailed the dance move I excel at the most:
stand still and provide support.
Our success did not
tempt us to risk all of our surgically tweaked and physical therapy modified
joints by trying to slide Rosa under my legs.
Week 8.5
We attended a wedding
for the kid who turned our garter toss into one of the greatest moments in
Bridal History by pulling a professional wrestling bulldog on my sister’s date
and slamming his face into the dance floor as he leapt up to catch the item.
We figured it would be a
perfect place to test our reacquired skills.
It’s pretty hard to
remember on the spot anyway, and it’s not like the DJ was cranking out
Tangos. We did a bit of Jive to oldies,
which would transition right back into hip hop, rendering our skills at
formalized dance useless.
There was some country
at the end that we were able to dance the Rumba to…sort of.
It wasn’t a Rumba beat,
so we threw and extra step in there, and hoped the one other couple attending
who had taken Ballroom classes didn’t look too closely at us.
We also did some pseudo
Swing to a faster country song, until I somehow ended up dancing with my
brother in law. I get confused easily
when trying to count steps.
Week 9
Almost at the end of the
semester, we returned to Cha Cha for the first time. Unbelievably, I remembered
a large amount of what we learned previously.
The fact that many of
the steps are the same as the Rumba routine mercilessly drilled into our heads
in the first half of the fall helped a bit.
For a change, I politely
and un-angrily obeyed the change partners command. Of course, this was the first class that had
more guys than gals in attendance, leaving me standing alone while Tony danced
with Rosa.
It worked out, giving me
time to stretch a tad before returning to my wife.
Rosa asked for a Waltz
early on, leading Tony to state we would change when we got the dance we
were working on right, jokingly (maybe?) warning we would do Cha Cha until sunrise
if we didn’t.
A short while later, he
came by and paid us (and me particularly) a giant compliment, indicating that
not only were we doing the best of the group, but that I was the only guy who
was actually leading.
I tried to point out
that Rosa was telling me what steps to do, and then I’d lead those, but all the
women in the class quickly drowned me out by making SHUSH noises.
We passed Cha Cha
inspection and started on Waltz. Very quickly, “Captain Partner Change” was at
it again. We weren’t the only couple upset with this arrangement, especially
for a dance with the romantic connections a Waltz has. Tony sensed the crowd turning ugly and
changed us back to the “one what brung me.”
The Latin couple
including the young woman who found my Salsa issues hysterical was having Waltz
issues.
I chimed out, “Not so
easy when you’re not genetically predisposed to the dance, is it? Welcome to my life.”
Again, can’t impress ‘em
with my moves, but I can still make ‘em laugh.
As we left Tony started the
remaining gang on Foxtrot, guaranteeing the Latin folks would be better than me
at the white folk dances too…poop.
Week 10
No little sandwiches for
the finale, bummer!
From the fading moments
of the beginner’s class, our last class started right back into Cha Cha. Tony
put on a CD of progressively faster pieces to test our mettle.
Rosa asked for a
refresher on the “Escape” aka “Three Cha Chas with a Twist” aka, “The Cool Walking
Away Thing they do on Dancing with the
Stars.”
Tony showed her, once I
translated from English with a Peruvian accent to Dance with a Greek Accent,
and then we were able to do it.
The Phinal Phake Phoebe
was extremely young, prompting Tony to pull Rosa in to demonstrate the move to
the whole class. One of the other women asked
Rosa for pointers on her steps after that.
We were moving up in the world.
OK, she was moving up
and I was not falling down, still – Progress!
I had some difficulties
with the more advanced Cuban Cross, but performed passably. I’ve come to accept
that pretty much any time there’s an “and” in the count I’m going to have
issues.
We switched for a final
shot at Rumba, also with varied tempos.
The initial piece was painfully slow, but since he, yet again, switched
at the end of the year from keeping time with “Quick Quick- Slowww” to using
“Two, Three –FourOne” I used the extra time to run the verbiage to number
conversions in my head.
He introduced some dips,
which Rosa and I followed for a bit, leaving the crazier, plummet like drop
ones, to Tony and the Young Latin woman who’s sub 30 year old body combined
with his professional skill levels was less likely to impact the floor due to
joint failure.
Even she drew the line at
trying a lift, and the class started to peter out.
We grabbed our coats until
a last minute return to Jive put us back on the floor. Abruptly stopping and starting made for
unhappy knees, but we put in a valiant final effort before wishing everyone a
Merry Christmas and being complimented by Tony on our progress, particularly my
leading…
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