I would like to say I consider myself a pretty good dancer.
I was lucky enough to inherit the dancing gene from my grandmother who was the jitterbug queen back in her day. At family functions, I tend to be one of the first on the dance floor and dragging my cousins to join me. When I go out with friends, we are the first and last on the dance floor and often utter the words “I just wanna dance the night away.” It’s just always been fun for me, a time to just let loose and shake what my mama gave me — modestly, of course.
But Thursday night was a different story. I decided to partake in a San Luis Obispo rite of passage … line dancing at The Graduate.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions and good intentions are what I possessed that evening. But it was all just too much. Maybe because it was the night before a long weekend which created a more than crowded venue, maybe because I was a newbie and did not know my left foot from my right when it came to these new dance steps or maybe because I don’t (and have never) owned a pair of cowboy boots … it was just too intense.
Hindsight is 20/20, so looking back, I guess I expected a slightly more laid back atmosphere.
When I think country, relaxed fit is the first thing that comes to mind. This scene was much more intense. As each song changed it was as if pandemonium broke out as dancers dashed to and from the main dance floor with this determined excitement to get in on the action of dancing in synchronized bliss while in line formation. It was as if I had opened the door to a new world and was looking at it through giant mesmerized eyes,but wasn’t able to take part in the magic of it all. There are so many different dances. I was intimidated.
After holding up the walls for what seemed like centuries, my cousin and I decided that instead of enduring the left-out feeling that continued to permeate our emotions, we would move on to the downtown scene. No need to know the routines or be in formation, just groovin’ to the beat. That is more my speed.
It was interesting to experience something new and see what other people enjoy on a night out. Although I didn’t have the most amazing time in line-dance land, I did learn something: always be prepared (isn’t that what the boy scouts say too?). It would have helped to have a lesson or two before I threw myself into the fire. So I think I’ll practice the two-step in my living room, with the curtains closed, while I work up the nerve to make my way onto the line dance stage once again.