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THE YEAR OF LIVING
DANGEROUSLY
CHAPTER FIVE:
NIGHTMARE
Written by Rick
Archer
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JUNE
1978
WAR OF THE WORLDS |
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According to
Lance Stevens, a professional dance instructor uses
performances to impress his students and gain their
confidence. Stevens was probably correct, but I
wouldn't know. I was not the 'performing' type.
Did I ever
receive a teaching award? No. Did I ever
receive professional recognition? No. Did I
ever win a big dance contest? No. Did I even
enter a big dance contest? No. It is a cosmic absurdity that a guy who
was not a natural dancer, who never won a dance
contest, and was given no professional recognition
created the country's largest dance studio.
Movies like Saturday Night Fever
and Dirty Dancing paint a rosy picture of how
one paves the
road to success in my profession. How about some
fantasy? Maybe I didn't have the
best of homes, but of course I had plenty of moxie and
talent. I was a hungry, ambitious kid who
learned to dance on the streets. I developed a huge
following. I used my
skill to win a big dance contest, then parlayed my
street cred into a job at a dance studio.
Yawn. Show
some imagination! We've
heard this before, right? With a wink, we know Rick will turn out to be a
good-looking hunk like Patrick Swayze with
lots of girlfriends and plenty of envious buddies who tag along
to catch his leftovers. Rick is slick
with the ladies, quick with the quip, fast on his feet. I'm
on fire!
Well, guess again. That ain't me, babe.
In reality, I was closer to Quasimodo than to Adonis. In a
curious twist, I was the exact opposite of Patrick Swayze. And how do I know this?
Because Patrick's mother Patsy Swayze was my friend for two years.
I started as her student in a Beginner level jazz class.
One day I got to class an hour early and noticed Patsy was not busy.
On the spur of the moment I invited her to have coffee
and she said yes. We had fun, so once a month I
repeated the offer. After taking her class for six
months, I
told Patsy I wanted to join her dance company.
Patsy, bless her
heart, was candid. When it came to talent, I was
no match for her son. In fact, despite a year of
taking her adult jazz class, I wasn't
good enough to join her dance company even though it needed
men. Patsy
really liked me, but she knew I was too limited as a dancer
to make the necessary improvement. In the kindest way
possible, Patsy suggested I focus on a different direction.
And so I set my sights on a new goal. I wanted to
teach a line dance class. How's that for reaching for
the stars?
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Patsy tried to
soften the blow. She pointed out I
never danced in my life till I was 24. Which is true.
Most people in the dance profession
start early.
Given such a late start, why would I be stupid enough to enter a profession for
which I was so poorly suited? The correct answer is
that I never aspired to be a dance instructor. I knew
better. I was a Nerd, not a Nureyev. All I
wanted was to teach a line dance class and use it as a way
to find a girlfriend. Kind in mind that oodles of
dance talent is not necessary to teach 'step-together-step-kick'.
I daresay if Saturday Night Fever had not come
along when it did, my future would have headed in a much
different direction.
Patsy said she began grooming Patrick
at age 5, he was performing by 8. What was I doing at a similar age? I was
reading any book on Greek Mythology I could get my hands
on. When I wasn't reliving the Trojan War, I enjoyed
science fiction. My favorite book was War of the
Worlds, written by H.G. Wells. The Martians
invade Earth. Given that Martians have
space ships, they obviously hold a vast technological
superiority. This becomes even more apparent when
their laser death ray incinerates huge crowds at a time.
Humanity is doomed. It has no answer for Martian
superiority. However, just when things are
hopeless, the Martians all die on the spot due to bacterial
infection. It's a miracle! The Earth is saved.
So here I am,
the Dance Teacher who Could Not Dance.
The challenges never seemed to end. First
I had been told to add partner dancing to my March Beginner
class. Then I had been ordered to create an Intermediate partner dance class for April. Now
Stevens demanded a new 'Advanced class' starting in
May. You know the story ... more money in his
pocket and I get to keep my job. But you want to know
something? I was a pretty good scrambler if I say so
myself. Unfortunately there was no guarantee of
safety. I might slip up tomorrow. Given that I
was impersonating a dance teacher, it would not take much to
expose me. But I survived.
In May 1978
the storm was over, the coast was clear. My Advanced
class was a success. Stevens had kept me in perpetual crisis mode for
three
straight months, but I came through every time in
the clutch.
That gave me a sense of invulnerability, a feeling
that I could handle anything because I was so smart and
clever. At the exact moment I let out a sigh of
relief, guess who walked in the door?
My worst
nightmare. His name was Eric. He presented a threat to my dance career
that reminded me of War of the Worlds. There was
absolutely no way I could overcome his vast superiority. I might
add that his appearance could not have been more ironic. After all
that work, Stevens was going to hand Eric my job.
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Thanks to an
extraordinary amount of hard work, I made Stevens of
Hollywood the largest Disco studio in the city
during my 'Apprenticeship'. Not once did Lance
Stevens acknowledge my accomplishment.
Stevens held me in
total contempt because I could not dance to his standards.
He tolerated my presence simply because he did not want to
teach Disco himself and Disco teachers were hard to find at
the beginning of the Disco Era. Despite my obvious
lack of dance talent and teaching experience, Stevens handed
every Disco student over to me, then turned his back and
held his nose. Stevens was not the type to go looking
for a teacher. Due to his apathy, it was easier for
Stevens to keep me around until someone better came along.
And
then it happened. In May, someone better came along.
Stevens was so impressed with Eric, not only did he hire him
on the spot, he erased my name from the June Wednesday
schedule and gave my next Beginner Disco class to him.
I was sick with despair. The writing was on the wall.
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Eric was a former Disco dance champion in Los Angeles
who moved to Houston to stay with his sister. Why
do you suppose Eric showed up at Stevens of Hollywood
looking for a job? Because I had developed the largest
Disco program in the city. The studio's reputation
made this the perfect place to find a job. Eric was everything that Lance Stevens had been
looking for. Handsome, extremely confident,
fabulous dancer, charismatic, full of Latin machismo,
previous experience as an instructor. Eric was
everything I wasn't. Eric was the Pro, I was the Schmo.
Eric not only looked like a dance instructor, he acted like
one. Eric was a natural who made me look stiff and
clumsy in comparison. He was a swarthy, good-looking
guy who could command every eye in the room with his flashy
dancing. He was smooth with the girls and cocky in his
demeanor.
Recognizing that Eric was
vastly superior to me in dance ability and knowledge, I figured the end
was near. Eric was like a comet headed towards Earth, the dance
equivalent to an Extinction Level Event. Assuming it was only a
matter of time, I felt like the guy on death row. Given the
hopelessness, imagine my surprise when Eric
self-destructed. It happened right in front of me. I was in
Stevens' office when Eric flung the door open.
I watched in shock as Eric plopped
his feet up on the opposite side of Steven's desk. I was aghast.
Is Eric out of his mind? Stevens would never tolerate a stunt like
that. Eric grinned at me, then shot some sort of smug 'this is
your lucky day' look at Stevens to get his attention.
"Lance, let me get to the point. I want to be your business partner. I am good, very good
and you know that. You've watched me teach
and you've watched me dance. You are nearing retirement
age, so I assume you are looking for someone to hand
the reins to. I am your man. What do you think?"
As I guessed, the manner in which Eric
handled this was so disrespectful that Stevens was offended.
I do not know what came over Eric, but that mistake cost him his job.
Or should I say Eric's mistake saved my job? I will never forget
the sight of Eric shaking his head in dismay as he walked
out the door to the street. I never saw him again. Considering I had
already packed my bags, I was
in shock to be given a second chance.
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Eric's demise
had a profound effect on me. For one thing, it made no
sense. Although Eric had a touch of the Latin swagger
about him, he was basically down to earth. For
example, Eric knew from the start that Stevens was grooming
him to take my place at the studio. Eric also knew he
had vastly superior skills as a dancer and teacher.
Realizing I was his rival, Eric could have rubbed his
superiority in my face, but instead he treated me with
respect and friendship. So what could possibly explain his
uncharacteristic outburst with Lance Stevens? His sudden
change in behavior was so extreme that I thought he had lost
his mind. What would cause him to behave like that?
Surely Eric knew he would get everything he wanted if he
could just be patient. I was extremely shaken by this
turn of events.
Given the mythic
David versus Goliath, Paris versus Achilles outcome, I wondered
if an Invisible Being had
intervened. I was so overwhelmed with awe that
I asked if there was a message contained in this miraculous
rescue. Was it possible that I had been 'chosen'
for this role? I had no way of knowing, but it sure
felt that way. When Fate is involved,
anything is possible. That included getting rid of
Eric for me. Forgive me if I what I say seems
inappropriate, but I interpreted this bizarre outcome as
God's way of saying no matter how inept I was, God would
clear the path. At that moment, I began to believe
this dance job was my Destiny. If that was the case, I made a sacred vow to
do the best I possibly could. It was an honor to be
given this gift, so now it was my job to cherish it.
I want the
Reader to remember this story. Seven months from now,
it will play a major role in The Year of Living Dangerously.
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RICK ARCHER'S LIST OF
SUSPECTED SUPERNATURAL EVENTS
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064 |
Serious |
Cosmic Blindness |
1978 |
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Eric loses his job after challenging Lance Stevens.
Rick is so shaken he begins to wonder if he has been spared for a reason.
Concluding that teaching dance is his life's mission, Rick makes a sacred vow to
do his best. |
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JUNE
1978
THE BALLROOM
DANCE PARTY
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Quite frankly,
Stevens was never the same after his confrontation with
Eric. There is a good chance that Eric had struck a
nerve with his offer to be a partner in the business.
Stevens was 60 years old. He had a bad hip, never a
good thing for a man who had to be on his feet all day long.
Furthermore, Stevens was self-employed. Self-employment
leads to precarious retirements. What better person to
groom than someone like Eric? But what about me? I
was the same age as Eric. I might not be able to dance
a lick, but I had demonstrated reliability and business
sense. In Hindsight, the thought probably did cross his mind.
I base this on an incident that took place shortly after Eric was dismissed.
One day Stevens ordered me to attend his
upcoming Saturday night Ballroom party.
Ballroom
Party?
Yuck!! I hated the music and I did not know the first
thing about the dancing. Tango? Forget it.
Waltz? Forget it.
If Stevens had
asked nicely, that would have helped my attitude
considerably. However, being nice wasn't his style. Since his
request
felt shoved down my throat, I deeply resented it. Nevertheless,
since Stevens insisted,
I dutifully showed up for his June Ballroom party.
I watched
Stevens perform a scintillating dance exhibition with his sexy wife
Cliann. Then I
watched Stevens dance with all the old ladies and flirt with
them.
I understood the
point of this dance party. Rich people had their country club for galas and
balls. However, there were not
many places for ordinary people to go Ballroom dancing.
Dance studios were smart to offer a monthly dance party
as a reward for their students' hard work. Stevens knew the score.
He always made a big
deal out of his studio party. However,
I had no relationship to these people. They were 'his students' and 'his style of dancing'. I saw
no reason why the Disco teacher should be forced to attend.
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Oh my God, I was
appalled the
moment I walked into the room. There were dozens of old people
moving at a snail's pace around the floor. Some of
them simply danced in the same spot. What is this,
Dancing for Dead People? I apologize for my
uncharitable observation, but when it came to Ballroom
dancing I was in serious need of attitude adjustment.
The day would
come when I would enjoy Ballroom dancing, but I forgot to
bring my crystal ball with me. Feeling like a fish
out of water, this party was completely out of my element.
For that reason,
I made no attempt to
participate. I hated the music and I was embarrassed by my lack of Ballroom
knowledge.
Knowing Stevens' low opinion of my dancing, I was far too
sensitive
to ask a lady to Cha Cha and reveal my shortcomings to the
guests. I assumed
Stevens would see me and snort in disgust. It was
easier to stay glued to my seat than to invite criticism.
Bored and afraid of being embarrassed, I sat alone and spoke to no one.
As for Stevens, he never said a single word to me.
What exactly did he expect me to do?
I did not know
any of these people. Plus they were all much older than me. I still did not have a clue how to make conversation with strangers
nor did anyone
initiate a conversation with me. As a result, I sat there twiddling my thumbs. I was 28 years
old and wanted to have fun. Since I worked two jobs, free time was a precious
commodity. Lonely as always, this was a Saturday
night and I wanted to go check out the Pistachio Club. Who knows what
might happen? Maybe I would meet a girl. I certainly wasn't going to get lucky
hanging around here. After an
hour of doing absolutely nothing, I left when Stevens wasn't looking.
Stevens never asked me
again to attend one of his parties. So what?
I was so bitter towards Stevens, I didn't really care. I was tired of having him impose his will on me.
It was Saturday night. He had forced me to give
up my free time, the most precious thing in the world. I was lonely and wanted to look for a
girlfriend, not hang around with people twice my age.
By pouting, I made it clear I resented
giving up a precious Saturday evening to attend an event I
had no interest in. Based on an hour of watching old
people move in slow motion, Ballroom was boring beyond
comprehension. Besides,
Disco would last forever. Who needs Ballroom?
This story
reveals just how ignorant I was about the World of Dancing.
Ballroom was the historic backbone of every dance studio.
However I could not
conceive there would be a day when a knowledge would come in
handy. If I had been Eric, I
would
demonstrate my dance skills by showing off to every song.
By courting the Waltzing Matildas, I could rack up some private
lessons. Why not be friendly
and make polite conversation? That's what people do at dance
parties. Not me. I had so much to learn. This evening revealed my near-total lack of
social skills around strangers. When it came to socializing with people
I did not know, I was far too insecure to make an effort.
Worst of all, not once did it occur to me that Stevens'
request that I attend this party might have deeper
implications. I suspect with Eric gone, Stevens was
curious to see what I could contribute. The answer?
Absolutely nothing.
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Sometimes I
think the Universe has a twisted sense of humor.
Although the Universe had done me a huge favor by
eliminating Eric, I had no idea a hefty price tag was
attached. Eric's grandstand play took place in
mid-June. Prior to this, Stevens had lined Eric up to
perform at a new Disco known as The Ritz at
the end of June. Did I know about this? No. Eric
would have been perfect. He told me he had won several
Disco contests in Los Angeles before coming to Houston.
When The Ritz had contacted Stevens, they wanted
two acts. That would be Stevens and someone else. Stevens accepted because he knew Eric was chomping at
the bit to show off. However, two weeks before the performance,
Stevens lost his temper and fired Eric. Now that Stevens was stuck
with me again, he ordered me to take Eric's place at the Ritz. I
was panic-stricken. This was akin to forcing a rookie ballet
dancer to perform Clara, the lead role in the Nutcracker.
I was facing two
huge obstacles, the first of which was acute stage fright.
I was a
reasonably attractive young man until the day I suffered a
very serious attack of acne at age 14. The resulting
scarring was so extreme that for many years I blamed my
problems with women on my disfigurement. Fortunately,
as long the light did not catch my face a certain way, I was
still a reasonably attractive young man. However, up
on a stage, I was certain the spotlight would magnify those
scars and make me look
ugly.
This ancient hang-up was not the only reason why I was
reluctant to perform. The other
obstacle was even more serious. A dance teacher does
not have to be an excellent dancer. He only needs to
be better than the people he is teaching. That much I
could do. However, when compared to the caliber of
people I saw entering the Disco dance contests, I was
definitely inferior. Keep in mind that I had no
teacher. As a result, I had no precise footwork nor
did I know how to lead. This was a giant handicap
because it forced Suzy, my partner, to memorize what came
next. Unfortunately, Suzy was a bundle of nerves.
Our routine was a series of 12 patterns. Over a two-week period, so far we had yet to complete our
routine without an error. Since I did not know how to
lead, any time Suzy forgot what came next, we were forced to start over
from the beginning. We had yet to do it right one time
before the day of the performance. This dilemma was
incredibly nerve-wracking.
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Due
to my inexperience, the task of getting ready to perform was best described as Mission
Impossible. I could not dream of matching the best
dancers in the city. However, I did possess one unique
skill. I was very good at dance acrobatics.
Although precision footwork was not my strength, risky,
eye-catching acrobatics were an excellent substitute.
I felt like an
idiot savant. I could not dance worth a lick, but I
could throw Suzy around with the greatest of ease.
Although my skill gave us a fighting chance, there was a
major catch. Since I could not lead Suzy into the
stunt, she had to remember to get into position on her own.
This put enormous pressure on Suzy to remember the order of
the 12 moves. She couldn't do it. Although Suzy
could do every pattern to perfection, her nerves were so bad
that invariably she would get the order wrong.
Whenever she messed up, I had to start over because I didn't
know how to start in the middle.
If we had been
given more time, we would have been awesome. But we
did not have that luxury. Fortunately, during our last
rehearsal I came up with a solution. I would verbally
call out the next move. That worked like a charm.
We got to the Ritz early for some last-minute practice.
To our surprise, we did the routine perfectly two times in a
row. What a relief! Not once in two weeks had we
done it right. But now we were ready.
Indeed, we got
off to a great start. Watching Suzy fly through the
air with the greatest of ease, the crowd was so thrilled
they began to clap. The Ritz possessed an
amazing light show that featured thunder and dazzling lightning bolts.
For this effect to work, the dance floor required total darkness.
Hearing the crowd applaud our acrobatics, the DJ got excited and turned
off the normal lighting to begin the light show while we performed.
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This was a huge
mistake. It took place when Suzy and I were briefly
apart as we prepared for our next move. By plunging the
dance floor into darkness, our eyes could not adjust fast enough.
For seven seconds, we were totally blind. This forced
us to grope in the dark like a game of blind man's bluff.
No doubt we looked ridiculous. Making the problem
worse, the audience could see us. The way the
lighting worked, they could see us in the dark even if we
couldn't see each other. As the audience watched us frantically grope
and call
for each other, our clumsy attempts struck onlookers as
silly comedy. Unsure what was going on, the crowd began
to laugh hysterically. As well they should. This
comedy of errors was something you might see in a Ricky and
Lucy script where everything goes wrong.
The DJ could see us struggle. Realizing his mistake,
he turned the lights back on just in time for the world to
see Suzy
fall to pieces. Right in the middle of the floor, she began to sob
huge crocodile tears. Seeing how miserable she was
took the fun out of it. So now the crowd went silent. The remainder of our performance was pathetic.
And that's putting it mildly. We weren't booed off the
floor, but the mood of the crowd was sullen and hostile. And who
could blame them. We were supposed to be professional dancers.
Poor Suzy.
Convinced that something was bound to go wrong, she had been
a nervous wreck for the past two weeks. Now that her
premonition had come true, all her tension and worry erupted
to cause a cataclysmic nervous breakdown. Suzy was so upset she could not even walk
off the floor without my help. Putting my arm
around her back, I half-carried Suzy to the car as she sobbed violently. As we drove to pick up her car at the
studio, she was still too overcome with grief to say a word.
She sobbed the entire way. What a shame.
Our
performance would have brought the house down
except for an unforgiveable error on the part of the DJ.
What was the man thinking? How were we supposed to do
acrobatics if we could not even see each other?
Suzy was not a
brave soul. This public humiliation was so painful
that she left the studio. I am sorry to say I never
saw her again. As for me, there would be profound
consequences. Believe it or not, this horrible
experience would help create the single luckiest break in my
entire dance career.
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RICK ARCHER'S LIST OF
SUSPECTED SUPERNATURAL EVENTS
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065 |
Serious |
Cosmic Blindness
Dance Curse 1 |
1978 |
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The Ritz Debacle is caused when the Ritz DJ loses his mind and
turns out the lights |
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