Swing Chick
I consider myself to be an individual with experience in many of the arts. I've written poetry, acting in dramatic plays, painted in oils, practiced the piano and oboe, and sang in several choirs. But the muse of dance never made an appearance in my life. And I don't think squaredancing in the sixth grade counts.
I've never had a dance lesson, and although I consider myself a good dancer (really good after a drink or two) I tend to avoid anything that resembles choreographed dance. Like aerobics, for example. C-a-n-'t do it. I end up looking like a Raggedy Ann doll on crack. But when the swing scene finally made its appearance here in Philly, I thought I'd at last found something I could try.
Swing seemed a lot like square-dancing. And I am an awesome squaredancer. So one night recently I pointed my car towards Old City Philadelphia, and arrived at the Five Spot for my first lesson.
I was assured I didn't need a partner, as partners switch frequently during the lesson. I walked up the stairs to the tiny restaurant/bar/dance floor. The bar was off to the right, serving martinis and gin and tonics. A seating area, hidden behind a curtain of stringed metal beads, held small chairs and tables straight from the fifties, upholstered in genuine faux red leatherette. Opposite was a 10x20 oval dance floor, surrounded by low tiers of table and chairs that made up the restaurant. There was even a stage where a band might play live. All in all, a pretty swanky joint.
The instructor, dressed in a fedora, wing-tips and suit, called us to the floor. The guys lined up opposite us dames, and I noticed some were wearing appropriate garb as well. I felt out of my league already, and faded to the back slightly. The lesson began. Jacob, the instructor, taught us the first of the basic sets of four-steps, and then grabbed a girl to demonstrate to the mob. About 60 would-be swingers were crowded on a dance floor built for about 10 couples. After Jacob swung his partner about and we all clapped, we seemed to fade back even further. Especially the women. Jacob, not only a great dancer, was very funny, and easily embarassed his partner. There would be more victims, as I would soon discover.
Music began and the guys each sought out a partner to practice the first step. I waited, nervously looking down and toeing the floor. Suddenly I felt like I was in the sixth grade again, waiting to be asked to dance. I watched as girl by girl the field narrowed, and wondered, what the hell is wrong with me? Tom finally asked me to dance, and I said yes, because Jacob announced that if you are asked to dance, you say yes. It's the swing way: polite, no-pressure, no sexual overtones, so that everyone can have a fun without feeling awkward like a pick-up scene.
So Tom lead me to the dance floor. I've mentioned in another Story that Indian guys like me, but I never did mention that so do those with mental or physical challenges. They sense that I just happen to be someone who is nice to them, I guess. So I did my best not to stare at Tom's one wall-eye through his thick Coke-bottle lenses. But Tom turned out to be a very good dancer, and that made me look like a good dancer. The music ended, I thanked him, and we retreated to await the next lesson.
Jacob danced in the movie, Swing Kids, his talent was apparent. The girl he picked to show off the next step looked wonderful dancing with him. But then again, Jacob could make a slack-jawed sloth with two left feet look good on the dance floor. His giggling partner blushed, while they swung in the back set. The music started again - our turn. I didn't have to wait long for a partner this time. Todd asked me to dance. He was one of the regulars, dressed in vintage clothes and shoes. Now my limited skills faltered as I was required to combine the first step and this new back step. Worse, I couldn't sense when Todd wanted me to move into the back step, so I would always lead with the wrong foot, or try to anticipate his intention and end up leading instead. Much too quickly the music ended, as I finally completed a full set successfully. No, I just got it! I didn't want to stop, but the next lesson was beginning.
Each time we learned a new step, we practiced on our side of the dance floor. Women would learn their part first, then the men. I had moved forward this time, understanding the first two steps. Jacob could easily see me practicing the turn step. And see me he did. Right after teaching us the turn step that put the gal into the "cuddle" position, he grabbed me to be his partner.
All eyes were on us as he pulled me to the middle of the floor. My eyebrows wrinkled in concentration. "Your're leading! Stop leading! Can you all see how she is leading?" I could feel my face grow red, even as I grinned. I was determined to get this step right. I stepped on his feet. I lead and anticipated. I did EVERYTHING wrong. "Where are you going? Put your foot here! You're moving from side to side, move forward!" Finally I got the step, and Jacob and I were "cuddled," side by side, my right hand holding his left in front, his right arm around my back. Applause and clapping erupted. "You were great," Jacob whispered in my ear as I rejoined the women. I felt better - he really hadn't meant to embarass me.
The cuddle lead up to the dip, and I was chosen as a partner immediately. Eric, a med student, was there because his tall wife wanted him to learn to dance. "I try to spin her around, and I end up clotheslining her instead," he laughed. We assumed the position, well, you know, we got ready to learn the dip. Jacob kept running around, correcting couples, as we waited. He came over to us. "Not so tight! What're you doing, hitting on this gal? Give her some room!" I laughed and Eric loosened his hold. Step, pivot, dip. Step, pivot, dip. We weren't quite that smooth, and that point was driven home as Jacob's regular partner met him on the dancefloor. A one-finger dip, and this chick was bent over almost double. Eric must've loved watching this because she was wearing a skirt, a short skirt, and the leg she lifted in that dip revealed a lot! (Mental note: must buy tap pants!)
This time, having been embarassed and surviving it, my inhibition faded. I am even better at limbo than aquaredancing, and it showed in this dip. Step, pivot, DIP! Up went my leg as I thrust my head back. I saw floor. "Woah! Where'd you go?" remarked Eric as I came up laughing. "I looked down and you weren't there!"
Swank Daddy, Jacob's web site for the Five Spot and swing dancing
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The Art of Being Human
Email: artofbeinghuman@yahoo.com