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June 2023

Here are the first two chapters from Magic Carpet Ride: The Disco Years

Rick Archer

 

 

 

 

MAGIC CARPET RIDE:
the disco years
CHAPTER ONE:

RUBAIYAT

Written by Rick Archer 

 

 
 


INTRODUCTION TO THE MAGIC CARPET RIDE:
THE DISCO YEARS
 

 

Rick Archer's Note: 

I have written five memoirs to explain how I acquired my unshakeable belief in Fate.  I have been the beneficiary of well over 100 remarkable experiences, many of which defy explanation given our scientific view of Reality.  While there is no way to make an ironclad case for the existence of God, my List of Suspected Supernatural Events makes it difficult for even the most ardent skeptic to find plausible explanations.

My first book, A Simple Act of Kindness, covers the events of my difficult childhood.

My fifth book, Gypsy Prophecy, explains how the 2001 meeting aboard a cruise ship with my future wife Marla was foretold by an undeniable case of Precognition. 

My middle book, Magic Carpet Ride, is covers a ten-year span, 1974-1983.  It was so long that I divided into three: The Lost Years, The Disco Years, The Western Years.

The Lost Years covers the three year period following my 1974 dismissal from Graduate School.  Considering myself an abject failure, I had no idea what career to pursue next.  Furthermore, I was so broken from my miserable year at Colorado State, I lacked any ambition to start something new until I was certain what I wanted.  For three years I worked as a social worker investigating child neglect.  Although this job was very depressing, it allowed me to wander around as I tried to overcome the debilitating emotional problems that had caused my dismissal.  At the end of this three year period, my strange obsession with dance lessons led to a very unusual job opportunity. 

This job opportunity is where we pick up our story in The Disco Years. This book covers the start of my accidental dance career.  I never set out to become a dance instructor.  It was a giant surprise to me in 1977 when a series of three consecutive dance positions came open without asking for a single one.  The next thing I knew, I was in the right place at the right time when Saturday Night Fever debuted in 1978.

On the day Saturday Night Fever hit Houston, I was a rookie unknown, an amateur with little training who was overwhelmed by this sudden deluge of students.  Why so many students given my total absence of reputation?  It turned out I was the only Disco teacher in the city.  Given my lack of dance skills and social skills, Vegas odds gave me a 1% chance to succeed in a field for which I was poorly suited.  Yet succeed I did.  By the end of my first year, I had created the largest dance program in the city. 

Although I was very pleased to do so well, in the privacy of my mind I was convinced what I had accomplished was far beyond my talent level.  Indeed, The Disco Years will reveal how a series of strange lucky breaks allowed me to overcome one obstacle after another that were seemingly beyond my ability.  In my heart, I firmly believed someone up there must like me because I had no business getting this far.  But who I was supposed to tell?  I had no idea why I was so lucky.  Nor did I have any idea where these doors were leading me.  So I kept my beliefs to myself and forged on.

A very curious aspect of my stories is the Epic Losing Streak.  It gives me no pleasure to reveal I was the proverbial flop with chicks.  A quick glance at my track record supports this claim.  I never had a date in high school.  After a disastrous one-month relationship, I never dated again in college.  My one shining moment came at age 24 with a nine-month relationship.  However, once I hit graduate school, things fell apart.  Over the next four years, I had three one-month relationships, nothing longer.  So there you have it:  In 28 years, one 9-month relationship, 4 one-month relationships.

What is odd about the Epic Losing Streak is that my difficulties with women were responsible for placing me on the threshold of a 40-year dance career.  Think about how strange that sounds.  This is not your typical 'Dance Stud' success story.  Not even hardly.  Ordinarily one would expect a tale about some spunky street kid who could dance up a storm and win the big dance contest.  Naturally one imagines a good-looking guy like Patrick Swayze or John Travolta with lots of girl friends and plenty of envious buddies along for the ride.  Guess again.  That ain't me, babe.  In a curious twist, I was the exact opposite of Patrick Swayze, closer to Quasimodo than Adonis.  And how do I know this?  Patrick's mother Patsy was my friend (and teacher) for two years.  Patsy was candid enough to tell me the truth... I lacked the natural ability to become a success in the world of performing dancers.  Stick to sales or computer programming.

Nevertheless, against all odds I owned the largest social dance program in Houston.  But then it all came unraveled.  At the end of 1979, I was down to about 30 students from a high of 500.  What went wrong?  Well, that is a very interesting story.  I will give you a hint: Urban Cowboy, the subject of Book Three, The Western Years,

Due to the death of the Disco Era in Houston, I was in serious trouble.  Not only did I despise Country-Western music, my single visit to a country-western club revealed a very distressing fact.  Country-Western dance was so easy to learn that no one needed lessons.  I am telling the truth.  The Texas Twostep was so simple it took me less than five minutes to learn.  People take dance lessons when it is too difficult to learn on their own.  How exactly was I going to extend my career as a dance teacher if there was nothing to teach?  So what did I do?  I used my experience as a Disco teacher to make Western dancing much more complicated.  Now that people needed lessons in order to enjoy the Urban Cowboy-inspired Western Era, my career was saved.  

 
 


RICK ARCHER'S LIST OF SUSPECTED SUPERNATURAL EVENTS

 

Carl Jung, the famous Swiss psychotherapist, was quoted as saying, "When coincidences pile up in this way, one cannot help being impressed.  The greater the number of terms in such a series, or the more unusual its character, the more improbable it becomes."

When I was 18, over a one year period I experienced four of the most remarkable coincidences, one of which I considered a religious experience.  To be honest, I was never quite the same.  What in the world is going on with my life?  I began reading books about mysticism.  In Carl Jung's autobiography, he suggested keeping a List of every strange thing that happens as way to understand there is more to this world than meets the eye.  I took his advice.  By the time I reached age 50, my List crossed the "100 Threshold". 

Since Event #59 takes place in Chapter Seven of this book, I will use it to demonstrate what my List looks like:

 

MAGIC CARPET RIDE:  THE DISCO YEARS

   059

Serious

Lucky Break
Coincidence
Synchronicity

 1978
  Crossroad Synchronicity:  Leap of Faith from 3 years earlier becomes validated.
Rick is shocked to discover he is in the Right Place at the Right Time when SNF arrives. 
Courses a la Carte
Spotlight Effect
makes Rick the best-known Disco teacher in Houston. 
The Surprise Factor makes Rick the
One in a Million Dance Teacher. 
The Mediocrity Effect and Lost Years Preparation makes Rick unusually effective right from the start.
 
 
 


REGARDING THE USE OF HINDSIGHT

 

Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.   -- Soren Kierkegaard


A feature that separates my books from what people expect in the usual memoir is my heavy reliance on Hindsight.  As an example, the Crossroad Synchronicity can only be understood through the use of Hindsight.

How is it possible for an unknown rookie dance teacher working at an obscure studio to become the only Disco teacher in America's fourth largest city?  Why were droves of students coming to me, a complete nobody?

Quite frankly, I had no explanation at the time.  Little did I know a stupid clerical error created the Spotlight Effect which launched my Magic Carpet Ride.  Once I finally discovered the missing piece of the puzzle, the startling events of January 1978 finally made sense.  Now we see why Soren Kierkegaard says Life can only be understood backwards.  But here's the problem.  It took me four months to figure it out. 

Let's say the Reader would like to know the answer to the mystery of the Spotlight Effect.  Should I make the Reader wait for ten chapters or would it be better to share the answer immediately?  My guess is that most people would prefer knowing the answer now while the details are fresh.  This is why I repeatedly place Narrative and Hindsight in back to back chapters. 

 

In 1898, Morgan Robertson wrote a book titled The Wreck of the Titan.  The details of this book were so similar to the actual 1912 sinking of the Titanic it looked like Robertson had ripped the story from newspaper headlines.  Yes, you have read this correctly.  Robertson book appeared 14 years BEFORE the tragedy.  However, Robertson had fits getting his book published.  Why?  Every rejection letter said the same thing:  No one will ever believe this story. 

When I started writing Magic Carpet Ride, I used the usual linear style with no Hindsight added.  "Well, first this thing happened which was really strange.  It led to something else that was odd that led to something else that was odd, etc."  I asked a buddy to read a chapter.  His response? 

"Rick, forget it.  No one's ever going to believe this."

Stunned at first, I began to see his point.  My life was too weird to make for pleasant reading.  That was the moment I realized my book should not be about me, it should be about Fate.  Rather than expect my readers to grasp the supernatural overtones by reading between the lines, my new focus spelled it out in bold letters... "This is why I think what happened was a supernatural event."

The Impact of a strange event is rarely obvious at the exact moment it occurs.  For example, the Crossroad Synchronicity made absolutely no sense to me when it took place.  By the time I finally grasped the Big Picture, my understanding took place ten chapters later.  Realizing there is no way for a Reader to remember the details well enough for an explanation ten chapters later to be clear, I realized Hindsight must closely follow Narrative to be informative.

This decision solved a major problem.  The Reader would no longer be forced to wait countless chapters before I finally reached the point where I figured out what was going on behind my back.  By that time, the Reader would have forgotten the details from the original story.

Unfortunately, there is a drawback to this technique.  Hindsight robs my books of much suspense, a situation I dearly regret.  As we shall see, the Reader will often know what will happen next well in advance.  For example, in The Lost Years I explained how I took dance lessons for three years without any idea I was secretly preparing for a future dance career.  Although I was blind to what was going on behind my back, the use of Hindsight revealed the secret well ahead of time. 

So why make such heavy use of Hindsight and ruin the surprise?  What is the purpose?  Because I decided these books are not about me, these books are meant to reveal how I came to believe in the existence of Fate.  For example, in The Disco Years I will explain how I came to believe my Accidental dance career was no accident at all, but rather the fulfillment of Destiny.  The best way to make this point clear is tell what happened from two perspectives... my understanding of the event as it took place as well as how I came to view the event further down the road. 

Why do I think a knowledge of Fate is important?  In my opinion, the existence of Fate implies the existence of God.  To me, that knowledge has the ability to completely change a person's outlook on the meaning of life.  The moment I accepted that the Will of God plays a guiding role in my life, I became a much happier person.  A belief in Fate made it easier to accept the bad with the good.

But first I had to prove the existence of Fate to myself.  As I mentioned earlier, I found the ideas of Carl Jung to be very compelling.  Dr. Jung asked how is it possible for psychics to predict the future based on our prevailing view of Reality.  I decided to pay close attention to what Jung had to say.  In particular, I noticed his emphasis on Coincidence.

"The problem of Synchronicity has puzzled me for a long time, ever since my middle twenties when I was investigating the phenomena of the collective unconscious.  I kept on coming across connections which I simply could not explain as chance groupings.  What I found were 'Coincidences' which were connected so meaningfully that their chance concurrence would represent a degree of improbability that would have to be expressed by an astronomical figure."

On a personal note, my List includes four experiences where I sensed something was about to happen well in advance of the event itself.  One of those events involved a prediction of how I would meet my future wife.  As my List of Suspected Supernatural Events grew, I became convinced the paranormal phenomenon known as Precognition is legitimate.  Science is deeply unhappy about Precognition.  Our current laws of physics cannot explain how someone can know about an event before it occurs.  And yet there is a great deal of anecdotal evidence to suggest Precognition exists. 

The reason Precognition is important is that it suggests certain events in our life are scheduled to happen and that our Higher Self occasionally gives our conscious mind a glimpse of the future.  While I understand the concepts of Precognition and Predestination makes most people very uncomfortable, it does not bother me.  The way I see it, the existence of Fate implies the existence of God.  In turn, the existence of God implies an Order and Benevolence to the Universe that I find comforting.  No matter how bad things are here in the Material World, it is nice to know a Higher Power is in control.  Hopefully I have aroused your curiosity.  I say that because The Disco Years begins with a story that implies Precognition.  That concludes the Introduction; let's get started.

 
 
 

April 6, 1977, Age 27, the disco years

dreaming about my future
 

 

Elena, my office secretary, loved to go dancing in the Disco clubs.  However, since I did not know her very well, I had no idea.  One day I heard a good dance song playing on her radio when I went in to hand Elena some case notes for typing.

Without thinking, I did a simple side-touch, side-touch dance step to the tune.  Elena squealed with delight.  "Ricky Ricardo, I had no idea you knew how to dance!"  This was the moment we discovered our mutual interest in Disco.  The moment Elena found out I took dance lessons, she insisted I keep her posted on every new move I learned.

On Wednesday, April 6, Elena asked me about a particularly tricky dance move so she could teach it to her boyfriend.  Pleased by my explanation, out of the blue Elena suggested that I should be a dance teacher.  It was just an off-hand remark, but I took it as a good omen.  I had spent the past six months working up the courage to ask Rosalyn Lively, my line dance teacher, to let me briefly teach a line dance pattern that I had cooked up.  However, I was so certain Rosalyn would say no, my fear of rejection had stopped me. 

 

Elena's kind remark was just what I needed to give me the courage to ask Rosalyn for permission.  So I approached Rosalyn that same night after class for permission to substitute.  To my surprise, not only did Rosalyn say yes, she said I could teach next week's class for the entire hour. 

On Wednesday night, April 13, a bomb scare at the Jewish Community Center interrupted my class the very moment I was about to play my first song.  Instantly the room emptied.  Stunned to see my moment of glory evaporate in such a cruel way, I was in for yet another surprise.  Once I reached the parking lot, my students asked me to continue teaching right there in the JCC parking lot.  Dancing in the moonlight proved to be a lot more fun that I could have ever imagined.  The students all had grins on their faces and Rosalyn praised my work.  I was on Cloud Nine that night as I drove home.  Things had gone much better than I had any right to expect.

 

The next morning at work, Elena spotted me.  She knew how important last night had been, so she immediately asked how my dance class had turned out.  I said it went really well.  I told her about the bomb threat and how I didn't let it stop me.  Then I added that I thought the students liked my class.

Elena grinned.  "You've got to be kidding, mister.  You?  They liked you?  I've seen you dance.  You are such a big clod that I don't believe it.  I bet they just felt sorry for you.  Here, I have an idea.  Show me what you taught last night and I will tell you whether it was any good or not."

Elena came out from behind her desk and we both peeked around the corner like co-conspirators.  Once we were sure our supervisor had not arrived yet, I showed her my pattern. 

"That's a pretty cool pattern, Rick.  Who taught it to you?"

"Hey, I made this one up myself!"

Elena laughed.  "Get out.  Sure you did.  I don't believe you.  We've been through this before.  You will say anything to impress me."

I picked up a ruler and threatened to spank her.  "You better believe me or you'll be sorry!"

Elena put her hands up in defense and laughed again. 

"You don't want to hurt me!  That would be bad luck because I am your inspiration!  I was the one who told you to become a dance instructor.  Without me, you would still be a nobody.  I'll expect some more moves next week.  Don't let me down, vato." 

And with that, Elena retreated to the safety of her desk while I headed to my office with a huge grin on my face.  Her laughter meant the world to me.  By forgiving me for letting her down back in February, Elena's warmth indicated that I had done the right thing that night in a very tricky situation.  Now that we were friends again, Elena had given me a huge boost of confidence.  For all her teasing, Elena believed in me.  During these past three Lost Years since being tossed from Graduate School, my confidence had been pretty low.  Now after last night's success, maybe I wasn't such a loser after all.  I felt like I had turned a corner in my life. 

Out of nowhere, a strange frenzy possessed me.  I decided right then and there to create a syllabus just in case a dance class of my own knocked on my door one of these days.  I understood this was a likely waste of time, but once the idea popped into my head, it became a form of Automatic Writing.  Imbued with a sense of urgency, creating this syllabus was something I had to do! 

This was a special moment, a definite reawakening of my long-lost sense of achievement.  Once upon a time, I had a world of ambition inside of me.  Unfortunately my failures in graduate school had killed most of that ambition.  More recently my inability to accomplish much in my Child Neglect job had turned the lights even dimmer.  However, last night's success plus Elena's support had brought my ambition roaring back to life.  Right now I wanted to be a dance teacher so badly it hurt!!  Like a jockey in a horse race, I suppose I had just spotted my opening.  Time to make my move!  On the spot, I was possessed by an overwhelming desire to prepare for an imaginary dance class.  I spent the next two hours concocting a syllabus using patterns Becky, Rosalyn and Patsy had taught me.  I feverishly typed out a three-page syllabus for a two month course complete with detailed lesson plans for each class. 

When I finished, I looked at my creation with great pride.  But my bubble popped when Reality rudely interrupted my reverie.  What was I thinking??  I was a one-time-only substitute teacher.  I had taught an insignificant class in a parking lot with no promises of a next time.  Nevertheless, my passion was already racing ahead.  I had just spent two hours creating a syllabus for a class that did not exist.   Why was I putting the cart in front of the horse?   The answer was simple... Dreaming about teaching a dance class made me happy!  But what were the chances?  Pretty remote.  With a huge sense of regret, I put my syllabus in my desk drawer and got back to work. 

 
 

Tuesday, April 19, 1977, Age 27, the disco years

fate knocks on my door
 

 

It was Tuesday evening, April 19.  I was in the middle of playing a volleyball game at the Jewish Community Center.  Six days had passed since my Bomb Scare class.  I glanced over and noticed a woman had just entered the gym.  How could I not notice?   I had been playing volleyball here for three years.  So far, only one woman had ever been in here.  Was this my imagination or was that Rosalyn?  Yes, it was.  My heart started to beat fast.  What is Rosalyn doing here?

I was so disconcerted by Rosalyn's appearance that I let the volleyball go right over my head without reacting.  Seeing the bewildered expression on my face, my older friend Buddy laughed.  Buddy guessed the approaching woman was the reason. 

"Okay, Rick, how much trouble are you in?  Do you need me to give you an excuse?"

I laughed.  "No, Buddy, that's not my girlfriend.  However Rosalyn is pretty important."

 

Rosalyn came over to the sideline and sat down on the bleachers.  I waved to let her know I had seen her.  I think Rosalyn understood I was in the middle of a game, so she watched me play with a bemused smile.  Several minutes passed.  What in the world is she doing here?  Then I froze.  As crazy as it seemed, suddenly I KNEW I was about to receive the answer to my prayers.  I couldn't stand it, so I stopped playing and asked a man sitting out the game to step in for me.  Whatever Rosalyn had to say, I had to know now.

As I walked over to her seat, Rosalyn smiled, a good omen to be sure.

"Hi Rick, I had an idea I would find you here.  You told me you practically live at the JCC, so I took a chance.  I was very impressed with your class last week.  I've been mulling over an offer to take a summer sabbatical in Washington, DC, and my supervisor has already approved it.  So far I have hesitated taking the opportunity because I have a commitment to teach my Line Dance class at the JCC this summer.  Your performance last week may have solved my problem.  Would you like to substitute for me this summer and teach my class?  That way I can accept my sabbatical with a clear conscience."

My spine tingled with eerie excitement.  This was exactly what I had hoped for!

"Yes, of course, Rosalyn!  I would love to teach that class.  Thank you so much for thinking of me!"

Rosalyn had made a special trip to the JCC just to ask me.  She could have waited till tomorrow night's class to ask, but she was just as excited to go to Washington as I was to accept her offer.  Rosalyn had just granted me my heartfelt wish, but it crossed my mind that she saw me as the answer to her own heartfelt wish.  Until I stepped forward last week, Rosalyn did not have an acceptable backup.  I could not tell who was more excited, me or her.  Probably me.  I was ecstatic.  Rosalyn grinned at my obvious enthusiasm. 

"I am so glad you offered to substitute last week.  That really solves a problem for me.  Besides, I can't imagine anyone more qualified to pinch-hit.  You probably know my patterns better than I do."

What a wonderful thing for Rosalyn to say.  I was about to give her a mammoth hug, but Rosalyn flinched in horror.  Who could blame her?  I was dripping wet.  After we both laughed at her close call, I leaned over and kissed her politely on the cheek instead. 

Rosalyn said, "I will see you tomorrow night.  We can talk more then."

 

As I watched Rosalyn walk away, I was too stunned for words.  My Dream had just come true.  I have no idea how I knew, but "I Knew".   Here's the funny thing.  I later discovered Rosalyn had just found out about her Washington, D.C., opportunity this morning.  That is why she had rushed to the JCC tonight because her boss wanted an answer.  In other words, it was a serious coincidence that my big break took place at the same time as her big break to solve each other's problem.  How strange was that?

Furthermore, regarding the syllabus I had created last week, did my soul know something my conscious mind didn't?  It sure felt that way.  Without any idea this summer opportunity was a possibility, I had spent two hours last week writing a syllabus for a dance class that did not exist.  Why would I do this?  Because the dream of teaching had been so tangible in my mind.  Precognitive?  That is what I believe.

Ordinarily the answer to a prayer does not materialize overnight, but in my case it did.  When Fate is involved, anything is possible. 

The Lost Years were over.  The Magic Carpet Ride was about to begin.

 
 

Wednesday, April 20, 1977, Age 27, the disco years

SPREADING THE NEWS
 

 

The morning after Rosalyn told me the good news, I told Elena what happened at volleyball last night.  First I got a big smile, then came the usual teasing.

"Ricky Ricardo, this was my idea.  I told you to become a dance instructor, so you owe this all to me!  Be sure to put me in your book when you become famous.  And be sure you say something nice about me.  Tell everyone my beauty reminds you of Helen of Troy."

I laughed.  "I don't know about the 'famous' part, Elena.  That might be stretching things a bit.  However, if I ever write a book, you will definitely be in it.  Consider it done." 

That same evening I drove by Patsy Swayze's studio hoping to catch her.  She was very excited for me.  Patsy gave me a hug, then stepped back to look me over with the biggest grin. 

"Rick, I think you'll do great.  You have an unusual ability to make me laugh.  You were very shy when I first met you, but once you get going, you are quite a character.  If I have one piece of advice, you should give free rein to your sense of humor." 

What an odd thing to say.  How did she know that about me?  But it was true.  When I taught my Bomb Scare class the previous week in the parking lot, I had no trouble coming up with quips and observations that kept my parking lot group amused.  They especially liked it when I teased them.  They laughed so hard one would think they were moonstruck. 

 

From Patsy's office, I drove to the Jewish Community Center.  An hour before Rosalyn's Wednesday class started, I visited Allen and Polly Clark.  I had been close to Allen and Polly and their three kids since I was 11.  They were better parents to me than... well, you know what I mean.  Since their house sat right next to the JCC, this was the perfect chance to tell them what had happened.  I told them about last week's Bomb Scare class and last night's request from Rosalyn to teach her summer class.  Allen and Polly were very happy for me.  Three years ago, my dismissal from graduate school had taken place at the end of May 1974.  Devastated, upon my return to Houston I asked if I could stay with them for a while and try to regroup.

Polly replied, "Oh my gosh, of course you can stay with us.  But with three kids we don't have a guest room.  Would you mind sleeping on the living room couch?"

Of course I didn't mind.  I would have slept in their laundry room if that was the only spot available.  And so I crashed on their couch for an entire month.  That was exactly the sanctuary I needed.  At the start of July I found a job and moved out the next day.  Polly pointed out it had been June 1974 when I had slept on Couch Catatonia for an entire month and that my line dance class would start in June 1977.  I nodded.  I had come full circle.  These past three years had been the Lost Years, a really tough time for me.  Back in those days of gloom and doom, who could have imagined something this exciting would happen?  Who knows, maybe my luck had turned. 

The following day was my weekly visit to see Gaye Brown-Burke, my therapist and mentor.  When I told her about the developments, she positively beamed with pride.  Gaye said I had been so cheerful lately she barely recognized me any more. 

"Are you sure you aren't Rick's long-lost twin?  Where has that moody, sarcastic, self-absorbed boy gone to?"

I smiled, but said nothing, adding a sheepish shrug instead.  At this point, Gaye became serious. 

"Rick, you are certainly not the only person in this world who ever suffered through a miserable childhood.  However, a tough childhood is not an excuse to give up.  For the past year and a half, I have watched you fight your way through all kinds of fears.  You get knocked down, you feel sorry for yourself, but you always get back up.  I admire your will to conquer these fears.  You have made incredible progress." 

Gaye paused a moment, then added something else with a wry smile.  "Incidentally, you still have a ways to go."

I grinned.  "Don't you ever cut me any slack?"

"No, but I have a reason to chew you out.  I believe in you.  Once I get you straightened out, you might actually accomplish something in this world."

I did not reply, but nodded with a faint smile.  Gaye's words left a deep impression on me.  I very much would like to accomplish something.  This summer dance class seemed like a good place to start.

 
 

Wednesday, June 15, 1977, Age 27, the disco years

Rick's teaching career begins
 

 


The date was Wednesday, June 15.  As I drove to the Jewish Community Center to begin teaching my summer class, I could barely contain my excitement.    My summer Disco Line Dance course consisted of 10 one-hour classes.  I was pleased to see the class had 30 students, an excellent enrollment.  

After introducing myself, I got right to work.  I taught my first class as if I had been teaching all my life.  Thanks to my experience a couple months earlier when I substituted for Rosalyn, this time I wasn't fazed by teaching with my back turned to the class.  Rather than keep my back turned the whole time, I simply turned around and addressed the class directly whenever I felt like being sociable.  I took satisfaction in my teaching ability.  My analytical mind had been a curse when it came to learning to dance, but it was a gift when teaching dance.  I broke down the steps in a way that made it easy for beginners to grasp.  I had a much different teaching style than Becky and Rosalyn.  Both women were all business.  Not me.  As Patsy suggested, I turned my sense of humor loose. 

 

Whenever there was too much silence, I enjoyed goofing around with the class.  For example, I would invariably ask if anyone had a question.  If no one answered, I would ask, "Was the last dance pattern too hard or too easy?" 

If no one answered, I would ask, "Does anyone think the Houston Oilers will win the World Series?" 

Invariably someone would take the bait.  "You must be confused, Rick.  The Oilers are a football team."

"Yeah, I know.  I just wanted to see if anyone actually listens to me."

And people would crack up.

I made all sorts of silly quips to keep things light.  I did it because I wanted my students to get in the habit of speaking up.  The more they participated in their class, the higher the energy.  I teased people whenever something funny happened.  They teased me right back when I messed up.  One time I started a line dance in the wrong direction and they jumped all over me.

"Why are you all being so hard on me?  That was my first mistake in ten years of teaching dance."

"You told us this was the first class you have ever taught."

"Yeah, but I was including the final 9 years from my previous lifetime.  Disrespectful students like you were the death of me."

Back and forth it went.  One reason I was successful was my experience around the older Jewish men from the volleyball league.  Although I am not Jewish myself, I definitely liked their style.  Jewish humor includes the fine art of insult.  I made sure to pick on every mistake, but always in a fun way.

"Jeffrey, you don't know your left foot from your right.  Next week I want you to wear different colored shoes so I can tell you which color shoe to move next."

"What if I am color-blind?"

"In that case, take your left shoe off and start with your bare foot when I tell you."

"But that would be embarrassing."

"Tough, learning to dance isn't for sissies.  Quit your whining."

"Why are you always so mean to us?"

"Because all you guys ever do is complain.  Why do you think the regular teacher left for the summer?  She couldn't take it anymore."

One night it occurred to me this classroom banter had originated with Elena.  Due to morning meetings our supervisor often showed up an hour late.  Elena would grab me and demand that I show her any new moves I had learned lately.  Elena loved to give me a hard time.  That was her style.  We would argue and tease when no one was looking.  Good grief, I had thought I was using my time with Elena as a way to overcome my shyness.  I was trying to learn how to talk to pretty girls, but all that teasing Elena and I had shared had inadvertently prepared me to tease the people in my dance class as well.  Kind of strange how that worked out.  A Silver Lining perhaps.  It fascinated me that I could talk about anything under the sun with my dance students, yet I turned into a clam around a woman close to my age.  Furthermore it made no sense to me that I was painfully awkward around strangers one-on-one, but in dance class I could entertain a roomful of strangers all night long.  I marveled at my ability to make these people laugh with my goofy comments.  Where did this hidden side of my personality come from? 

One night I came to class with a heavily bandaged finger.  I had nicked it badly while cutting bread with a kitchen knife.  Someone asked what was wrong with my finger, so I used an old Rodney Dangerfield line.  Deliberately bending my index finger to make it appear half-size, I said, "I guess you guys never noticed one of my fingers is short.  It's kind of embarrassing."

As usual, someone took the bait.  "That's terrible.  What happened to your finger?"

"When I was young, I was kidnapped.  Dad demanded more proof, so they sent part of my finger to my father."

Back and forth.  My students gave me a hard time, I gave them a hard time.  Fortunately I had the upper hand because I had a class full of klutzes.  My own struggles had made me appreciate that dancing does not come easily to everyone.  Now that I had made it this far, my difficulty turned into an advantage because it made me a very patient teacher.  Whenever I saw someone struggle, I would readily offer the kind of sympathy a more gifted dancer might not be able to summon.  I was very good at offering encouragement.  I reassured every struggling dancer there was nothing wrong with them.  "If I can do it, so can you."  Over the years I would share this message with countless thousands who doubted their ability to learn to dance.  I promised them that "try, try again" would pay off eventually.  And I was right.  If they persisted, they always got it.  In all those years I only met two or three other students who were as bad as I was when I started.  They were so bad, each one had the sense to quit after the first or second lesson.  I drew two conclusions.  One, by comparing myself to my students, I confirmed my original mediocrity.  Two, it was really weird that I had refused to quit.  

It was very ironic that I had no natural ability to dance.  What was I even doing here?  The success I had teaching my summer class provided the answer.  I did not need to be Baryshnikov or Nureyev to teach a Beginning-level line dance course.  All I needed was to be a better dancer than my students.   After three years of taking line dance classes, that much I could do.  In fact, Rosalyn said I was probably the best-prepared substitute dance teacher in history.  I appreciated the compliment, but I could not help but wonder why it took me so long to get to this point.  Three years is long time.   The whole idea of a mediocre dancer like me turning around and becoming a dance teacher was preposterous.  It made as much sense as a dyslexic teaching English or a hearing-impaired person teaching Music.  Be that as it may, my Dance Project had connected me with my one true skill, my teaching ability.  I had first discovered my teaching ability back at Colorado State, but dismissed it as useless because there was no subject I was qualified to teach.

During my year in graduate school, I had a professor named Dr. Fujimoto who criticized my shortcomings endlessly.  Not a day passed when he didn't remind me of my thin skin, my defensiveness, my inability to listen, my tendency to talk too much, my insensitivity to the feelings of others, and so on and so on.  In short, he concluded a miserable human being like myself had no business becoming a therapist.  After Fujimoto dismissed me, I was so bitter I refused to go back to college.  I assumed I was certain to run into another professor like him.  Given my problems dealing with authority figures like Fujimoto, why put my neck back in that same noose again?  Only one problem.  My only skill was my teaching ability.  To do that, I would need a degree in some new field.  Hence my difficulty finding another career to replace my dream of being a therapist. 

Mind you, when I first started taking dance lessons three years ago, I was such a poor dancer I never dreamed I might teach a class someday.  Here we were three years later and I had just discovered a subject I could teach that would not require a return to college.  It was very curious how everything worked out so nicely.  Some might even say it was meant to be. 

 

 


MAGIC CARPET RIDE: THE DISCO YEARS

CHAPTER TWO:  STEPPING STONES
 

 

 

 

 

MAGIC CARPET RIDE:
the disco years
CHAPTER TWO:

STEPPING STONES

Written by Rick Archer 

 

 
 

Rick Archer's Note:

If there is one thing I am sure of, Hardship comes to us all at some point.  

There is an Arabic saying that asserts Life is divided into two days.  Both days will be a Test. 

When Life is for you, do not be proud or reckless.  When Life is against you, be patient. 

Good judgment and Wisdom are born of Hardship.

 

I love that quote.  To me, this explains why EVERYONE, even the most talented people, always seem to undergo extreme hardship at some point.  Looking back, it is easy to divide my life into Two Days.  Hardship was my middle name during the Lost Years.  Not that I would ever wish to experience those problems again, but I would have to say my travails made me a much better person.  While I was down, I did my best to learn from my mistakes.  For example, my Pied Piper success at the Rubaiyat Graduation Night was born of failure at Melody Lane during the Lost Years. 

This pattern would be repeated many times during my career.  As another example, I believed I had been set up for failure by Henry over at Phoney Baloney and Jack at Sundry School.  Neither instructor had bothered to teach me how to Lead.  In addition, Jack's failure to offer any sort of review doomed me to suffer a painful loss of face in Katie's eyes.  I would remember these bitter experiences when it came time to create my own class format.  I vowed to treat my own students far better than I had been treated.

To this day I still shake my head at how pathetic I was during the Lost Years.  In particular, I am forever embarrassed over how much my fear of rejection held me back.  Fortunately, thanks to wisdom gained through hardship, I was able to handle the affairs of my new dance career with consummate skill during my Brightest Day.  It was uncanny how my Darkest Day Hardship had given me the exact training necessary to be effective when it came time to pursue my mission in life.  If you ask me, these Hardships were all part of the plan.  But now for the funny thing.  Here at the start of the Disco Years, I have just entered my Brightest Day.  As you will see, now that my luck has turned, for the next year I could do no wrong while doors of opportunity opened time after time without asking.

 


RICK ARCHER'S LIST OF SUSPECTED SUPERNATURAL EVENTS
 

 

THE MAGIC CARPET RIDE:  THE DISCO YEARS

   055

Suspicious

Coincidence  1977
  The painful lessons learned at Melody Lane two years earlier help Rick turn into a Pied Piper at Rubaiyat
 

THE MAGIC CARPET RIDE:  THE LOST YEARS

   047

Suspicious

Messenger
Cosmic Blindness
 1975
  Rick's inability to think of a way to ask Katie for a date cost him dearly.  At Melody Lane Graduation Night, Jack taught Rick how NOT to run a dance studio while Katie indirectly reminded Rick to get a career.
 
 
 
 

SEPTEMBER, 1977, Age 27, the disco years

ROSALYN HANDS ME A PARTING GIFT
 

 

Following my successful August visit to the Rubaiyat, I was on pins and needles wondering if Rosalyn would let me keep the JCC class in September.  I prayed she had lost interest and would let me continue.  Alas, such was not to be.  One day early in September I got the call I was dreading.  It was Rosalyn.  To my intense dismay, Rosalyn announced she had just returned to Houston and would resume teaching her class in the Fall.  Darn it! 

When Rosalyn asked, "So how did my class go this summer?"

Taking careful note of the word 'my class', my heart plummeted.  However I did not let the disappointment show in my voice.  I bravely explained things had gone well.  I told Rosalyn how grateful I was that she had given me this opportunity, then said I would see her when class resumed next week.  After I hung up the phone, I fell to pieces.  Having experienced such intense satisfaction, I did not want to stop teaching.  This felt like the end of my dream.  I was really down, so I spent the rest of the day feeling sorry for myself.  I could not accept my Fate.  It hurt like crazy to be given such a wonderful opportunity only to have it taken away.

Two days passed.  Elena buzzed to say I had a phone call.  Still locked in depression over losing my Disco job, I was in no mood to talk unless I had to.  I asked Elena to find out who it was. 

"It is Naomi from the Jewish Community Center.  Do you want me to take a message?"

The JCC?  Really?  My heart leapt for joy.  What could this be about?

"Okay, Elena, I will take the call."  

To my enormous relief, Naomi said she was looking for a Disco teacher.  However, Naomi was not from the Braeswood JCC where I had taught last summer.  Naomi explained she represented a new branch of the JCC which had recently opened out in the Memorial area.  As we spoke, Naomi explained that someone at the Braeswood JCC had passed along my name to her.  Naomi added that the referral had included a nice compliment about me.  Apparently someone in the office heard I had done a good job last summer.  That recommendation was good enough for Naomi. 

Naomi said, "Would you consider teaching for us this fall?"

"Yes, I would like to help, but first I have a question.  I have been a member of the Braeswood JCC for the past three years.  Not once have I ever heard of a Memorial location.  Why is that?"

"The Memorial JCC is practically brand new.  I have to warn you that we don't have much time to get publicity out on this class.  I don't think your class will be be very large.  Is that okay?  We will still pay you the same amount you received last summer."

 

I scoffed.  Of course it was okay.  I was in no mood to play hard to get.  Nor did I care what the pay was.  I simply said, "When do I start?"

When Naomi said the course was on Wednesday, I was elated.  This gave me a face-saving reason to disengage from helping Rosalyn with her Wednesday class.  Now that I had been the teacher, I was not interested in returning to my boring assistant role.  I called Rosalyn.  She was so warm over the phone that I immediately felt guilty for wanting to avoid her class.  When I told her about the Memorial JCC, Rosalyn replied, "Oh good, you got the job.  They asked me to do it, but I told them I already taught on Wednesday nights.  That is when I suggested you."

Oh good grief.  Here I was mad at Rosalyn for reclaiming her class and she was looking out for me the whole time.  My guilt immediately ratcheted another level higher.  Hiding my mixed feelings as best I could, I said, "Rosalyn, I may not see you for a while, but I am very grateful to you for helping me get started.  Teaching dance is something I really love to do.  Thank you so much!"

Rosalyn replied, "You are most welcome.  I am glad this worked out so well.  I can tell how much this means to you."

After I hung up, I shook my head in wonder.  I owed Rosalyn quite a debt for her amazing contribution to my life.   I have always felt a deep sense of gratitude for Rosalyn's act of kindness.  I am sorry to say this would be the last time I ever spoke to the woman who opened the door to my career.

 
 

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 1977, Age 27, the disco years

memorial jcc
 

 

Two weeks later I began my Memorial JCC class.  The date was Wednesday, September 28.  Naomi was right about the small class.  I was greeted by 5 women, all of whom were nearly twice my age.  I didn't care5 people tonight, 30 people last summer, it made no difference.  I wanted to teach dance and I was hungry for any experience I could get. 

Unfortunately, this class was not as easy to teach as I had expected.  Although four of the ladies liked my class, there was a grouch named Esther who complained the entire time.  Esther was very difficult to please.  Nothing I said or did made her happy.  In front of the other four ladies, Esther made it clear this class was not what she expected.  Noticing how her negativity affected everyone, I worried that no one would come back next week. 

At the end of the night Esther and one other woman came up to talk to me.  I frowned as she approached.  This old battleaxe had ruined my class.  What did she want?  Esther said she wanted to learn how to partner dance to Disco music.

 

"I am sorry, ma'am, but I don't know how to partner dance."

Esther immediately insulted me.  "Why not?  Aren't you a Disco teacher?  How can you call yourself a dance teacher when you don't even know how to dance?"

I seethed at Esther's slap.  The Porcupine inside me came within an inch of telling that woman exactly where she could go.  I was tempted to hand the woman the JCC catalogue and ask if she knew how to read.  The class description said 'Disco Line Dances'.  However somewhere in the back of my mind I thought of Dr. Fujimoto, the man who threw me out of graduate school for my tendency to get defensive and retort without thinking first.  With a grim smile, I noted how my Darkest Day at Colorado State had steeled me to deal with this difficult woman.  I took a deep breath and counted to ten. 

Once I calmed down, I responded, "It is true that I do not know how to partner dance.  However I am curious about partner dancing as well.  I promise to look around and see if I can find a place to pick up some training."

That satisfied Esther.  She and her friend left with a smile.  Meanwhile I breathed a sigh of relief.  I had come very close to losing my temper.  This level of self-control was highly uncharacteristic of me, so I quietly noted that perhaps it was a sign of emerging maturity.  With the help of Gaye Brown-Burke, my therapist and friend, I was determined to overcome my legion of weaknesses.  Unfortunately I was a slow learner.  Next month, I would turn 28.  At this rate, I figured about the time I reached 60 I would grow up.

 
 

Thursday, SEPTEMBER 29, 1977, Age 27, the disco years

the whip AT STEVENS OF HOLLYWOOD
 

 

I had no idea what Disco partner dancing looked like.  I had been Disco dancing three times since Manimal attacked me at the Farmhouse two and a half years ago.  Not once had I observed anyone partner dancing.  I wasn't even sure it existed.  However, I recalled how Elena had once shown me three simple partner dance moves. 

I also remembered seeing that weird dance called the Whip.  Back in January 1976 I had signed up for a Disco line dance class at Stevens of Hollywood.  At the end of class, Lance Stevens,  the owner, had entered the room to put on a Whip dance demonstration with his wife Cliann.  I would later learn the Whip was the Texas equivalent of a better-known dance called West Coast Swing. 

It had been 21 months since I had seen the Whip demonstration.  Since the Whip was the only thing I knew that might resemble Disco partner dancing, I phoned Stevens of Hollywood.  Lance Stevens answered the phone.  Stevens said he had a Whip class on Tuesday night I could take, but it had started two weeks ago.  He added that Tuesday would be the third lesson.  Stevens said the Whip was a tough dance and very few people succeeded starting this late.  There was no encouragement in his voice.  In fact, Stevens made it sound like it wasn't worth his trouble to bother with me. 

"If you want to come, that's up to you.  Just be forewarned that I will not slow my class down to accommodate you."

I said I would be there.  The way I saw it, this was the only game in town.

 
 

Tuesday, October 4, 1977, Age 27, the disco years

Dorothy Piazzos
 

 

"How can you call yourself a dance teacher when you don't even know how to dance?"

Esther's insult about my ignorance had struck a chord.  When it came to Disco dancing, I had no clue how to partner dance  Since I was always looking for a way to improve my dancing, Esther had aroused my curiosity.  I recalled my visit to Stevens of Hollywood back in January 1976.  That was the night I met Roberta, the woman I considered to be the worst dance teacher I had ever met.  Oddly enough, I owed a debt of gratitude to her.  Roberta had asked me to come up to the front and teach a line dance she had seen me demonstrating earlier to another student. 

To my distinct pleasure, I had done a very good job explaining how the pattern worked during my brief cameo.  When the class was over, the desire to teach a line dance class of my own was firmly planted in my mind.  As I entered of Stevens of Hollywood that night, this memory was fresh in my mind.  After all, this studio was where the dream had started.  The date was Tuesday, October 4, 1977. 

 

Stevens of Hollywood was located on the edge of the Montrose area near the corner of Shepherd and Westheimer.

Since I was starting class in the third week, when I arrived Stevens knew it was me who had phoned.  Since I was the only person under 40, that was another giveaway.  Stevens looked me over, then shrugged. 

"Okay, I warned you, but since you're here, you might as well give it a try.  However, like I said, I don't intend to hold my class up waiting for you to catch up."

I noticed the edge in his voice.  What value was there in discouraging me?  I had a bad feeling about Lance Stevens.  He was very gruff and impatient.  Not an easy guy to like. 

Stevens said I was early.  He told me to sit and watch the people warm up.  Class would start in ten minutes. 

 

I looked around.  Compared to the voluminous Dance City/Melody Lane building where I had learned to Freestyle back in 1974, Stevens of Hollywood was not a large dance studio.  I estimate the main dance floor was 1500 square feet plus there were three smaller side rooms.  The place was somewhat run-down and had a subdued air to it.  When I showed up for the Whip class that night, the class had 20 people. 

Before class started, Stevens had a surprise for me.  He came over to me, then barked at a lady standing nearby talking to someone.

"Dorothy, come over here.  I need you."

When Dorothy arrived, a sour look crossed Stevens' face.  He almost seemed mad at me.  His hostility made no sense.  Strange man.  Stevens spoke gruffly to Dorothy. 

"Here's the young man I told you about.  Show him what he needs to know." 

Then Stevens turned to me.  "Listen to Dorothy and maybe you will catch on." 

With that, Stevens turned his back and walked away.  Gee, what a pleasant introduction.  Why was this man so harsh?  Stevens reminded me of Dr. Fujimoto, my highly critical graduate school professor.  Just what I needed... another Fujimoto.  I definitely did not like Stevens. 

 

Fortunately, Dorothy was nothing like Stevens.  Dorothy was a very pleasant, attractive woman.  She was an elegant white-haired lady, well-dressed with a lovely scarf, perfectly groomed.  This lady could have easily belonged to the River Oaks Seven, my tormentors from yesteryear, except for one thing.  Dorothy was very warm and welcoming. 

She introduced herself as Dorothy Piazzos, then asked my name.  Dorothy smiled and said she would try to catch me up.  I liked her immediately.  Dorothy was 50 something.  Dorothy was short, curvy and very pretty.  Dorothy explained she had taken the Whip class before.  She knew the dance well enough to help if I got stuck, adding she was here as a volunteer.  I gathered Stevens had told Dorothy earlier that I might be coming.  Stevens wanted her to give me some personal coaching so my inexperience would not interfere with the progress of his group class.  I didn't have a problem with that.  In fact, I enjoyed Dorothy's company. 

As we chatted, I learned she owned Pappagallos, a shoe store in the ritzy Galleria shopping mall just down the street.  Dorothy said she loved to dance and was here to help any way she could.  Just as she finished her introduction, class started.

We already know that learning to dance never came easily to me.  However, to my surprise, I wasn't all that bad in my first night of Whip class.  What?  No ordeal?  I was quite relieved.  Due to my year of jazz dancing with Patsy Swayze, the footwork gave me no trouble.  Dorothy's patience made quite a difference as well.

 

In a manner similar to the legendary Katie, Dorothy gently corrected my mistakes and kept me from tensing up with any disapproval.  Best of all, I liked the music.  Stevens played Rhythm and Blues, a type of music very similar to Motown.  My Disco-trained ear was unfamiliar with the Blues, but I liked it right off the bat.  Stevens played one song I recognized... Cleo's Mood by Junior Walker.  It had a strong beat and I craved those nasty saxophone riffs.  The Blues music made me want to learn this dance.  The Whip was pretty cool. 

However, there was an early problem.  About ten minutes into the lesson, Dorothy pulled me aside. 

"Rick, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but you are really hurting me!  You are squeezing so hard I am worried your thumb is going to bore a hole through my hand."

I was mortified!  I had no idea I was hurting Dorothy.  After apologizing profusely, I confessed to Dorothy I had not been aware of my mistake.  Apparently I was so nervous I did not know my own strength.  "Dorothy, please forgive me!  I am so sorry!!  But my problem is that I don't know when I am hurting you.  Would you do me a favor?"

"I'll try.  What do you have in mind?"

"The next time I squeeze, will you shake your hand to make me aware?"

Dorothy smiled.  "That's a good idea.  Of course."

Ten seconds later Dorothy began to shake her hand.  I was appalled.  Good grief!  Obviously I was a lot more tense than I realized.  Fortunately, the shaking trick worked.  As the evening progressed, every now and then Dorothy would quietly shake my hand.  That helped me become more aware of keeping my hands relaxed.  Dorothy was very patient with me, so I was able to break this bad habit before the night was through.  I could not help wishing Lance Stevens was as patient as Dorothy.  Every time he looked at me, he frowned.  What is it with this guy?  I did not know why, but I think Stevens disliked me from the start.  

Dorothy appreciated that I cared enough to enlist her help in solving the problem.  My hand-squeezing problem was an odd start to the evening, but it actually helped us become friends.  As for me, ordinarily I did not handle criticism well.  However, not once did I bristle at Dorothy's constant fussing.  That is because I felt an instant rapport with this nice lady.  Here she was going out of her way to help me and I had nearly severed her hand.  But did she bite my head off?  No.  Instead she was quite forgiving.  I liked Dorothy for it.  In fact, I told her so.  "Dorothy, you are being really nice to me.  I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your patience."

Dorothy smiled and squeezed my hand affectionately.  I immediately flinched and said, "Ow!"

Seeing me rubbing my hands together, Dorothy was horrified.  "Oh, no, did I hurt you?"

"No, Dorothy, I'm just teasing you.  I still feel guilty for hurting you earlier."

Dorothy put on a mock frown, then punched me in the side of arm.

"OW!!"

"Did that hurt?"

"Yes!  For a small lady, you pack quite a wallop!"

"Good.  Serves you right for scaring me like that."  Dorothy was grinning as she said it.

Towards the end of the class, Dorothy got a funny look on her face. 

"Rick, you sure are picking this material up fast.  You said you missed the first two weeks, but you are completely caught up.  Are you sure you have never taken a Whip class before?"

I smiled and thanked her for the compliment.  "This footwork isn't that hard.  Did you know I teach a Disco class?  My previous dance experience helps me pick up the footwork."

Dorothy did a double-take.  "Do you really teach a Disco class?"

"Yes, ma'am, I teach Disco over at the Memorial Jewish Community Center."

For some reason Dorothy got quiet and seemed to study me more carefully.  I was curious why my words had such an odd effect, but said nothing.  Dorothy excused herself to go to the restroom with a promise to return shortly. 

While Dorothy was gone, Lance Stevens came over

"I hear you teach a Disco class."

His comment took me completely off guard.  Stevens was so gruff with his approach, I hesitated.  Which answer was more likely to escape his wrath?  I decided to tell the truth, so I said yes.  Stevens stared at me for a moment, gave an odd hummph, then walked away.  Good grief, what was that all about?  After Stevens left, Dorothy returned.  She must have seen the perplexed look on my face because she gave me a guilty look. 

"I'm sorry about that.  I don't know why Lance is always so rude.  When you weren't looking, Lance asked me how you were doing.  I told him you were pretty good because you are a Disco instructor."

I grinned.  "Well, Dorothy, I probably could have figured out who ratted me out without your confession, but thanks for telling me anyway."

We both laughed.  I enjoyed Dorothy's company a lot.  What a shame Dorothy wasn't my age because she was really nice.  Five minutes later, Lance Stevens came over again.  This time he asked me if I knew the 'Worm', the hot new move of the day.  By coincidence, Elena had recently taught me the Worm, so I responded positively.  "Yes, sir, I know how to do the Worm."

"Then show it to me." 

At his request, I demonstrated the Worm.  I wiggled up and down and felt ridiculous.  Stevens rolled his eyes with disdain and replied that's how he did it too.  Yeah, right, like I believe this old grouch has ever done the Worm in his life.  Then with his usual hummph, Stevens walked away.  Strange guy.  I wondered why Stevens was always so grumpy.  My previous four dance teachers... David, Becky, Patsy, Rosalyn... had all been friendly.  Stevens was the exact opposite.  This man didn't have a friendly bone in his body.  In fact, Stevens seemed to have as big a chip on his shoulder as I did.  What was this guy's problem?  I also thought his exchange over the Worm was kind of odd.  However, he was definitely checking me out for some reason.  Very curious.  Sure enough, at the end of class, Stevens came back around for the third time.  I groaned because I thought I was about to get chewed out some more.  Turns out I was right.

Stevens watched me dance for a second, then commented, "Your footwork is okay, but can you get rid of the bounce?" 

Irritated, I said nothing.  However I nodded to indicate I got the message. 

To my surprise, Stevens was here for another reason.  "Listen, my Disco teacher just quit.  You want to take her place?"

I was stunned.  Heck, this guy doesn't even like me and now he's offering me a job?  Before Stevens could change his mind, I said, "Sure.  Of course I will.  I love teaching dance."

"Good.  The class has about 15 people.  Can you come back Thursday night at 7?"

Well, there goes Thursday night volleyball at the JCC, but I nodded yes.  This felt like a good opportunity.  Due to the awkwardness of the moment, I was about to go, but then I realized Stevens wasn't done yet.  He felt compelled to offer a lecture.

"I would teach the class myself, but I detest Disco music.  I would rather pay someone to teach the class than be forced to listen to that Disco crap.  I grew up with Big Band Music.  That was the finest music ever recorded.  And now we have this abomination called Disco Music.  I think it's awful.  Civilization has taken a giant step backwards."

If Lance Stevens was to be believed, America was in peril.  I smiled as a vision of Barbarians using a Disco soundtrack to invade New York City passed through my mind.  I loved Disco music, but I had the sense to keep my mouth snapped tight.  Shades of Fujimoto, had already learned the less said around this man, the better. 

When Stevens finished his rant, he gave me a hard look.  "Are you reliable?  Are you going to be here?"

"Yes, sir, of course.  I am very reliable."

Stevens still wasn't done.  He stood there and took another long look at me without saying anything.  Then without a smile, he glanced at Dorothy, gave his usual hummph, then pivoted and walked away.  The entire exchange had lasted all of three minutes.  Dorothy watched the whole thing transpire.  After Stevens left, she giggled and gave me a big hug.  I had a strong hunch Dorothy had played a key role in this unusual situation.  However, despite my questioning, Dorothy refused to reveal anything.  Nevertheless, there was no doubt in my mind that Stevens had hired me based on her evaluation.  She was looking out for me.  Pure and simple, Dorothy's Simple Act of Kindness had gotten me this opportunity.  I was glad to have this new job, but I had my doubts about Lance Stevens. 

 
 


MAGIC CARPET RIDE: 
A GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY

 

On my drive home that night, I should have been overjoyed, but instead I frowned.  Lance Stevens reminded me of Fujimoto far too much for comfort.  Who wants to work for this guy?  However, I really wanted this job.  It had been over three years since they sent me packing from Colorado State.  Had I finally developed the skill to play the game?  I certainly hoped so.  If I wanted to keep this job, then I had best remember to keep my mouth shut around this bitter man.

 

It was odd the way Lance Stevens had handled this situation.  He had just handed a dance class to a young man who was a total stranger.  Lance Stevens did not like me.  Nor did he have a good opinion of my dancing.  I knew this because Stevens had criticized my Whip dancing non-stop tonight. I was also troubled over the way I had been hired.  There was no interview.  Stevens did not ask about my previous experience, he did not ask for a demonstration of my line dance material, nor did he ask for a resume or recommendations.  Stevens did not ask where I taught previously or for how long.  He did not ask what I did for a living.  In other words, Stevens didn't want to know a damn thing about me.  I figured my sole qualification for the job was being in the right place at the right time  Stevens disliked Disco music so much, he hired the first kid off the street just so he did not have to go to the trouble of looking for anyone. 

Furthermore, based on the hostile way he offered me the job, I could tell Stevens could have cared less if I said yes.  That is why I got the impression that hiring me was not his idea in the first place.  Dorothy's word was behind his decision, I was sure of it.  However, Dorothy refused to admit her involvement.  Nor would she tell me why this job was available.  The whole episode was a bit too mysterious for my taste.

Nevertheless, despite what went on behind the scenes, I had a new job.  In addition, I had the distinct feeling this was an important moment.  Something very much out of the ordinary was taking place in my life.  In the short span of five months, this Stevens position was the third teaching job in a row that had been handed to me.  Typically people apply for jobs.  Not me.  I never had to lift a finger for any of the three.  They felt 'linked', a synchronicity.  I referred to them as the 'Three Stepping Stones'. 

I had no idea at the time, but this was my Big Break.  Dorothy's kindness had opened the Door to my Destiny.  I barely knew what I was doing, but at least I had the sense to cross the threshold.  The Magic Carpet was warming up in the background. 

 

 


MAGIC CARPET RIDE:  THE DISCO YEARS

Chapter THREE:  END OF THE ROAD


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