I Got Served: Total and Utter Dancing Fool
We had planned to start next week but I decided to go tonight on my own; I just needed to dance, I guess. You know how it is. And maybe part of me wanted to dazzle the others next week with my 'natural' ability to pick up the funky fresh moves from the get-go. That sure would have been nice. But it didn't exactly turn out that way.
I opened the door to the studio and walked into a Jay-Z video. Thirty lithe dancers kitted out in street gear were busting it up fast and furious to bowel-rumbling bassey tracks and there I was in my yoga pants and high ponytail, frozen. I managed to put down my bag and tried to join in from the back of the room. I finally figured out who the instructor was and attempted to mimic her. She was doing this crazy move with her foot which had me convinced that in order to perform it she must have three ankles, yet everyone else seemed to also have three ankles. I sort of waved my foot around in front of me and then in a flurry of moves I found the class had spun around and was now facing me. For that second I was like a deer caught in the headlights of a Freightliner. So I spun around, too, but now everyone was already facing the front again. The fragmented limb routine repeated in variations for the next three humiliating minutes and then there were hands on the floor, butts in the air and legs whipping around. They were breakdancing. I realised that if I could actually do these moves (ha!) my knee would likely explode so I picked up my bottle of water and my bag and quietly walked out the door with my joints intact but not so much my dignity. If that was the basic class then the guys from the Beat It video must have been teaching the advanced.
I noticed through the window on the door of the next studio that the class in there was nice and slow so I went to the desk to see about switching. I looked in my open bag and noticed my bottle of water. So the one I was holding in my hand wasn't mine. Which means I came into a class, flailed around for a few minutes and then stole someone's water and left. I think I drank from it, too. So what to do? How about walk back in without making eye contact, putting the water back on the floor and running out? I couldn't bear the thought that someone would be all sweaty and thirsty and not have their water! Dehydration is dangerous and highly uncomfortable.
So I joined what I think was a jazz class and when I went to go into my bag to get my ticket I noticed that my water bottle was half full. I had only had a sip when I first got it. That meant it had leaked about a cup's worth into my bag. My leather Marc by Marc Jacobs bag. Of course. That would never happen in a canvas tote. Never mind, it was time to redeem myself. Things were a lot calmer here and I could actually follow along. It was all going well until things started to get more lively and some jumps were incorporated and I uh, um, I uh, uh......................I don't want to tell you! No, I didn't fart, but let's just say I think I would have preferred it. (I've had a baby so you can figure it out.) I used my knee as an excuse for having to sit out the rest, especially as we had to do our moves in twos now, jazzily skipping across the studio as the others looked on. There was NO. WAY. So the very kind instructor suggested I do some stretches until the cool-down at the end. Why not leave? How could I bail on TWO classes? So I did some stretches and hoped no more liquids would be spilled at that place.
I think I'll do pilates next week.....