Zydeco Dancing OR How I nearly murdered a room full of people using only my elbows
On a recent trip into Berkeley I went to Ashkenaz for some Zydeco dancing. The sweet irony is that I grew up in the one part of the country that is known for Zydeco and I never tried it once until I moved to Cali...Technically, I still have not succeeded at Zydeco dancing either...
I'm not sure if you know this, but I am (in several states) registered as a deadly weapon. The law only applies to golf and dancing, but it is still a pretty dangerous for all involved.
There should be wanted/no admittance posters at the entrance to every dancehall in the continental US, but unfortunately for the safety of the patrons of Ashkenaz, there were not. I entered the room and tried to glue myself to a wall so that there would be no possible way anyone would ask me to dance and did that single guy, lean against the wall and try not to look terrified thing that we do.
We arrived in time for a brief lesson and I thought:
"Brilliant! Here is my chance to overcome my fear of murdering people through the art of dance."
I shakily walked up to the dancefloor and stood in line with the guys and the teacher gave us the instruction for the basic step. The basic step was deceptively easy...you just kind of step side-to-side and back again. Awesome! I can totally do this. Then the instructor, who came from the seventh circle of my personal hell, said "Let's add another step!" Everyone else smiled and easily picked up the next set of instructions and I just kept doing the basic side-to-side step with a dumb look on my face as I tried to emulate everyone else...without much success. I started doing what I think is called a box-step, which involved too many planes of movement for my tiny dance brain to comprehend and I just started spinning around and trying not to fall down. Then, our instructor added another flourish onto the already quantum physics-like instructions and everyone else smiled and moved in perfect harmony. Whereas I, still equipped with the dumbass look on my face, began gyrating, spinning and moving around like someone in a deadly hailstorm.
Finally, the instructor said that we were all ready to select a partner and do one actual dance! He clearly had not seen me seizing in the corner.
I quietly and not-so-discretely slinked back into the crowd to resume my position glued to the wall and desperately avoided eye contact with everyone. After a few songs I loosen up and I let my guard down and accidentally make eye contact with a woman, who is clearly looking for a dance partner. I rack my brain for all the appropriate excuses, "I don't dance." or a polite "No thank you" or even a truthful "I am too shy and I fear that my dancing may cause you severe bodily harm." But in my sheer panic my mind went blank and when she asked me to dance, I blurted out "I would LOVE to dance with you!"
Fantastic.
To make matters better, I look down and this poor woman is wearing sandals and I am trying to think if I even know a podiatrist I can recommend to her after I've hobbled her.
We get out on the dancefloor and I start "dancing." I am trying lead, which basically means I spin this lady in violent, erratic circles and try to hide the abject fear in my eyes, while narrowly avoiding careening into other dancing couples. After about the seventh time I stepped on her feet she began to deeply regret asking me to dance and we spent the remaining time smiling awkwardly at each other and praying for the immediate end of the song, which of course went on for another ten minutes.
The song ended and she smiled at me with what I can only assume is same face a hostage makes when their captor lets them go, and we sprinted away from each other as quickly as possible. I assume that everyone watched me nearly kill that woman, since no one asked me to dance after that. I finished out my Zydeco experience and we all walked toward the door, where I saw them posting a warning poster with my picture on it.
All-in-all, I have to say it was a successful evening...especially since no one died. Perhaps only my dignity...
I'm not sure if you know this, but I am (in several states) registered as a deadly weapon. The law only applies to golf and dancing, but it is still a pretty dangerous for all involved.
There should be wanted/no admittance posters at the entrance to every dancehall in the continental US, but unfortunately for the safety of the patrons of Ashkenaz, there were not. I entered the room and tried to glue myself to a wall so that there would be no possible way anyone would ask me to dance and did that single guy, lean against the wall and try not to look terrified thing that we do.
We arrived in time for a brief lesson and I thought:
"Brilliant! Here is my chance to overcome my fear of murdering people through the art of dance."
I shakily walked up to the dancefloor and stood in line with the guys and the teacher gave us the instruction for the basic step. The basic step was deceptively easy...you just kind of step side-to-side and back again. Awesome! I can totally do this. Then the instructor, who came from the seventh circle of my personal hell, said "Let's add another step!" Everyone else smiled and easily picked up the next set of instructions and I just kept doing the basic side-to-side step with a dumb look on my face as I tried to emulate everyone else...without much success. I started doing what I think is called a box-step, which involved too many planes of movement for my tiny dance brain to comprehend and I just started spinning around and trying not to fall down. Then, our instructor added another flourish onto the already quantum physics-like instructions and everyone else smiled and moved in perfect harmony. Whereas I, still equipped with the dumbass look on my face, began gyrating, spinning and moving around like someone in a deadly hailstorm.
Finally, the instructor said that we were all ready to select a partner and do one actual dance! He clearly had not seen me seizing in the corner.
I quietly and not-so-discretely slinked back into the crowd to resume my position glued to the wall and desperately avoided eye contact with everyone. After a few songs I loosen up and I let my guard down and accidentally make eye contact with a woman, who is clearly looking for a dance partner. I rack my brain for all the appropriate excuses, "I don't dance." or a polite "No thank you" or even a truthful "I am too shy and I fear that my dancing may cause you severe bodily harm." But in my sheer panic my mind went blank and when she asked me to dance, I blurted out "I would LOVE to dance with you!"
Fantastic.
To make matters better, I look down and this poor woman is wearing sandals and I am trying to think if I even know a podiatrist I can recommend to her after I've hobbled her.
We get out on the dancefloor and I start "dancing." I am trying lead, which basically means I spin this lady in violent, erratic circles and try to hide the abject fear in my eyes, while narrowly avoiding careening into other dancing couples. After about the seventh time I stepped on her feet she began to deeply regret asking me to dance and we spent the remaining time smiling awkwardly at each other and praying for the immediate end of the song, which of course went on for another ten minutes.
The song ended and she smiled at me with what I can only assume is same face a hostage makes when their captor lets them go, and we sprinted away from each other as quickly as possible. I assume that everyone watched me nearly kill that woman, since no one asked me to dance after that. I finished out my Zydeco experience and we all walked toward the door, where I saw them posting a warning poster with my picture on it.
All-in-all, I have to say it was a successful evening...especially since no one died. Perhaps only my dignity...
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