Damn it, I have a confession to make.
I wanna dance!
No......really
No......really
Yeah I know what you’re thinking and no, I’m not going to be out there flailing away anytime soon. But it’s something that I always wished I could do. However when you’re built like a fire hydrant, you’re probably better suited to play Full Back than emulating Patrick Swayze.
Oh, there was a time when I would watch Fred Astaire and think “Jim, you should be a hoofer” only to try a move that resembled an epileptic seizure more than a rhythmic dance. Now, no offense intended to anyone who’s an epileptic, but I have the rhythm of a bull moose and it was just not meant to be. In my High School years, I watched as the guys at school would go out on the gym floor and dance. I envied the fact that they had girls lined up to dance with them. It was many years later that I realized the girls were lined up because there were only seven guys willing to dance and three hundred girls. So, the odds were indeed, clearly in their favor.
Generally, I too was busting a move….. way over there, next to the punchbowl. My friends and I would watch the “bad boys” break dance and marvel at Billy Gribbons as he would twirl and spin, replete in his parachute pants and that Michael Jackson “Thriller” jacket. God, how I wanted zippers and nylon pants, but they too really weren’t designed with me in mind. We thought he was cool, but then again, we were too afraid of him not to think that. I mean, he thought he was cool and that was plenty good enough for us. In retrospect, it would have been so much cooler if Billy weren’t a white dude with a fro, but I digress. In fairness, my High School years were not exactly filled with dance classics and my not being Danny Terrio really didn’t affect me all that much. I mean, I knew I was never going on Dance Fever, so I was content to listen to Van Halen, The Who and The Clash. …you know music that you could head nod to. Until the summer of ’86 and the Kinks made dancing seem cool again when they sang…….
“Come dancing, Come on, and have yourself a ball.
Don't be afraid to come dancing, It's only natural.”
Damn you Ray Davies, why must you taunt me?
Every so often, I’ve been haunted by the dancing bone. Every now and again, I hear that familiar voice like some sirens song saying “Come on Jim, you can do it” only to crash on the rocks of rhythm, coordination and self consciousness. Because as we all know everyone was looking at….me…..and we......can’t have…that.
Later in life I’ve witnessed many people out there dancing and just going for it. Sometimes there is someone on the floor with moves reminiscent of a mating sea lion and they are blissfully unaware of their skills or lack thereof. Many times I have seen people watch and laugh. Sometimes…. I have even been that guy. But the dancers were the ones who should have been laughing, knowing that they were the brave ones. Next time I’m going out there and……pray for a slow dance.
Baby steps man….baby steps.
“Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance
and when you get the choice to
and when you get the choice to
sit it out or dance……dance”
