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Rick Archer's Note:
Is it possible
to have Love at First Sight with someone you have known for
a month?
I say yes.
Jennifer was admittedly shy, but in her own way she had been
trying to get me to notice her for an entire month before I
noticed her. Given her beauty, under ordinary
circumstances Jennifer would have had no trouble.
However, for some strange reason, her efforts made no difference. I
took zero notice beyond her obvious skill at acrobatics
during class. However, the moment I opened my front
door to let Jennifer in, it was a different story. I
was overwhelmed by her presence the moment I saw her.
Take my word for it, I was instantly in love. In addition, I
was on Supernatural Alert
I have noticed
how many Rom-Com plots revolve around the concept of
hiding in plain sight. A good example would be the
Hallmark
movie Very, Very Valentine. A florist
named Helen meets a dreamy mystery man wearing a mask at a
masquerade ball. They flirt, they connect, but to her
dismay, her dream guy mysteriously disappears. Helen
is disconsolate over her loss. Fortunately, her best
friend Henry is there to cheer her up. Henry promises
to help Helen find her mystery man. The rest of the
movie revolves around the hunt to identify Helen's lost
love. During the search, something odd happens.
Helen realizes she has fallen in love with Henry, her best
friend. In response to Helen's awakening, Henry
confesses he has been in love with Helen from the moment he
bought flowers at her shop long ago. And so they kiss
and live happily every after.
The movie's plot
suggests it is possible for a future lover to remain
hiding in plain sight until Fate determines the timing is
right to remove the blinders. Only one problem.
The movie was fiction. Is Hiding in Plain Sight
possible in real life? I say yes. I
have had two powerful experiences that paralleled
the movie's 'Hiding' plot. For this reason, I believe Fate has the power to blind us in
order to protect the timing of a Future Event.
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MAGIC CARPET RIDE: THE DISCO YEARS |
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081 |
Suspicious |
Coincidence
Cosmic Blindness |
1979 |
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After
Jennifer hides in plain sight for a month, Rick suddenly notices her at the
exact same moment he is preparing to end his relationship with Victoria.
The Impact of this development is intense. |
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Tuesday, September 4, 1979, the disco years
THE PHONE CALL
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For
reasons I will never know, during the last week in
August my
life accelerated dramatically. It started
with my decision to continue teaching at Clear Lake
on August 25. In rapid succession came the
Annabelle's Karate Chop, Victoria's decision to stop
performing, and my "Stay with Michael" speech.
Now thanks to an extraordinary Labor Day Weekend, I
was in love with Jennifer.
After a
parting kiss on Tuesday morning, September 4, I
drove home dying to know what Victoria had decided about her
marriage during her talk with Michael over the
weekend.
Therefore, when the phone rang at 9 am, I was
certain it was Victoria. However, when I got
to the phone, I realized it was my business line
instead of my unlisted home phone.
Curious, I
picked it up.
This phone call would change my life.
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"Hello,
this is Rick Archer."
"Good morning, Rick, I am glad I caught you."
I did
not recognize the female
voice.
"I'm
sorry, ma'am, it's early. Who is this?"
"This is Sandy."
Sandy who?? I was
still very sleepy. It was Jennifer's fault.
Not that I minded.
"Uh, Sandy,
forgive me, I haven't had my
coffee yet."
"You
don't
remember me? I hired you to teach Disco classes
here at the Meyerland Club back in April.
Everyone enjoyed that class so much."
How
embarrassing. Of course. That was the class Joanne had helped me teach on Sunday evenings from April
to June. The class had ended less than three months ago, but
it seemed like a million years. Apologizing
profusely, I asked how I could help.
Sandy said,
"I am
calling to say we want you back to teach more
lessons starting this coming Sunday evening. Are
you available?"
As
everyone knows, we tend to hear what we want to
hear. I vividly remember my first
thought. 'Great!', I
thought to myself, 'I know plenty of new Disco moves.' Certain
she meant Disco, I replied, "That sounds like fun,
Sandy. I would enjoy teaching your group again."
"Can you teach on Sunday evenings
starting at 6 pm
just
like last time?"
"Yes,
Sandy. My
Sunday evenings are free at the moment."
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With that, I
frowned. My Sunday evenings were free due to Victoria's
Karate Chop at Annabelle's
nine days ago.
The distressing loss of Annabelle's was
a major
reason why I felt Disco would be leaving my life soon. With
'The End' just around the corner, Sandy's good news about
a Disco class gave
me hope. This opportunity would provide a happy respite from my dark sea
of gloom.
Sandy
quickly replied, "That
is wonderful, Rick! For this next class, we want to learn how to Country dance!"
Did she say
Country??? Oh, my God! I did not
see this coming.
Talk about
Blind-sided!
My heart sank. Please don't ask me to
teach Country dancing... Filled with disgust, I almost
turned Sandy down on the spot. However, a drowning man
cannot be choosy. He grabs
whatever life ring is thrown his way. I hesitated
and took a long breath. I wanted to continue
teaching dance more than anything I had ever wished for
in my life. Teaching Country-Western would be a
serious downgrade from Disco, but looking at it in a
different way, it would beat returning to my
previous job as a child abuse investigator.
Sensing my
hesitation, Sandy interrupted my thoughts. "You
do know how to teach Country-Western Dancing, don’t you?"
To my
surprise, my lips moved without my permission.
"Of course I do! I like teaching
Country-Western!"
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I immediately
went into shock. Did I really say what I had just
said?? I felt like some sort of survival
mechanism had forced me to say that against my will.
Thank goodness Sandy could not see me turn red with shame. Considering how
much I despised Country-Western, I could not believe what I
had just done. Memories of 'Fake it till you Make it'
from the days of Disco
Past came flooding in. Well, too late to take it back,
so I plunged forward and decided to continue lying.
"I am no
expert at Country dancing, Sandy, but I am learning.
I am sure I know enough to help. Tell
me more about what you are looking to do."
Sandy replied
that
her friends were all abuzz about the new Urban Cowboy movie.
Although Urban Cowboy had not been released yet,
Sandy pointed out it
was due to hit the silver screen sometime next year
(June 1980 to be exact).
At the moment, the movie was being preceded by an
amazing fashion trend towards all things Western.
At this, Sandy giggled.
"I've
been a bad girl. But I'm not alone. My
girlfriends have been unable to resist
buying some of the new western attire. Now that we
have all these fancy new clothes, we have decided our November
Gala here at the Meyerland Club needs a
country-western theme. Doesn't that sound like fun?"
Fun? About
as much fun as a funeral. Hmm, maybe it would be my funeral. This
phone call might just be the death of me. Cause of death...
Urban Cowboy. Oh my God, it's
here! Now that the menace of
Urban Cowboy was knocking on my door, I stopped
breathing. It wasn't the Grim Reaper, but it just as well
could have been.
I already hated this movie way more than I had ever hated
anything in my life and it had not even been released yet.
I groaned at the thought of all the misery headed my way.
Sandy paused to
allow me to comment about how happy I was to hear from her, but my reply was
silence. Sandy got
impatient, so she resumed. "Someone
suggested we best get a
head-start on the dancing, so that's why I am calling
you. Did I hear you say you like to teach Country?"
I paled at
her question. Damn it. Sandy had me pinned with that one.
I swallowed hard
and offered a half-hearted endorsement. "It's okay.
I will miss Disco, but I'm getting used to
it just like everyone else."
Stupid of me to
hedge. Sandy sensed my reluctance immediately. I recall Sandy's
next words
clear as day.
"You're
sure
you know how to teach Country Dancing?"
This woman had
read my mind. If I hesitated
again, I was dead. It was now or never.
"Why,
yes, of course I do!"
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I had just told
the biggest lie of my life. My nose grew so long I
could have hung my coffee cup on it. In my opinion, the
dancing I had seen
at the Cactus Club three months ago was so primitive it did not even deserve to be called 'dancing'.
Since
my two brief laps around the floor with Joanne during
the Cotton Eyed Joe didn't count
as actual dancing, I technically had never danced Western in my
life. I would not
have the first clue how to teach someone to dance
Country. Besides,
based on what I had seen at the Cactus Club,
there wasn't anything to it. But I wasn't about to
tell that to Sandy. This phone call might actually be the only
chance I would ever get to save my teaching career. In
the desperate hope that there might be more to Western
dancing than I had seen so far, I
stayed on the phone.
"That's good,
Rick. A couple ladies in my group asked around
but couldn't find anyone. That's when I suggested you."
My voice
continued to operate on automatic pilot. "Uh, thank
you, Sandy, I really appreciate that."
To be honest, I
could not believe I was having this conversation.
There was no dancing to teach. 'Step touch step touch walk walk.'
I felt sick.
And what about
the music? Just thinking
about Western music left me nauseous...
"Yeew
got a lover but it ain't me. He can't love yeew
like I can. I done you wrong, but I'm sorry now. I'll behave, you
got my vow!"
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Oh please.
Not Western.
My hatred of all things country was so intense, I began working up the courage to say
"forget it". However, Sandy's next words
distracted me.
"Rick,
I need to ask. Would the price be the same?"
Every bone in my
body wanted to say no, but the temptation to see how much
this job would pay overcame my resistance.
"I'm sorry, Sandy,
like I said, I haven't had my
coffee yet. Please refresh my memory. What was our previous arrangement?"
"The last time you were here you charged $5
an hour per
person. I thought that was reasonable. Would the
same price be okay?"
I misunderstood what
she said. As I said, people hear what they want
to hear. At the time, by answering "$5 an hour",
I thought she was asking for a one-time Crash
Course that would last an
hour.
I recalled how Lance Stevens had taught a two-hour C&W
Crash Course back in 1978. As much as I hated Western,
if Stevens could do it, so could I. I suppose I could
manage a one-hour Crash Course.
"Um, forgive
me for asking, Sandy, but how many people do you think you might
have?
"Maybe 40,
50 people."
Really? That was
$250 for an hour of teaching. Hmm. That was good money in those days. I
took a deep breath as I tried to screw up my courage to
commit to something that scared me out of my wits.
Was it possible to fake my way through one evening knowing
how little I did?? Back in 1978, I had spent an
entire year pretending to be a Disco teacher when half
the time I barely knew more than my students. Oh,
hell, I could fake my way through anything for an hour. My memory
from the Meyerland Disco class last spring told me these
people were notoriously slow learners. I also remembered
watching Lance Stevens teach the Cotton
Eyed Joe. That plus the
stupid Step-Touch, Step-Touch, Walk-Walk Twostep might be
enough. I should
be able to bluff my way through an hour lesson.
Feigning
confidence as best I could, I uttered the immortal words.
"Sure,
Sandy, I
can teach your class."
But then I
hesitated when a little birdie suggested I might have
misunderstood. So I quickly added a question.
"This would be for one
night, correct??"
"Oh,
heaven's no. Our gala is first week in November.
That gives us time for
eight lessons just like you did with Disco back in
April. I'm serious. My ladies are nuts about
this. Here at the Meyerland Club
everyone has heard western dancing is the next big
thing! Not only that, Western Chic has come to
Houston! The ladies can hardly wait to wear their
new Western outfits!"
Eight
weeks!!!!
My panic was
overwhelming. Where on earth was I going to find 8
hours of material? The fear was so intense I think my heart stopped
beating. Eight hours of country-western classes??
I did not even know enough to cover one hour. But the money
would be unbelievable. I ran the numbers in my head.
$5 an hour, 50 people, 8 hours. Wow!
This was a potential $2,000 payday. That was a lot of
money back in those days. By comparison, that was more
money than my entire monthly paycheck back when I worked at
the Welfare Department. I felt my knees
go weak at the temptation. The math was inescapable. $2,000 was a lot of money to turn down, especially with
Disco dying on the vine. But at the same
time, where could I learn eight
hours of western dance material? Did eight hours
of dance material even exist? Based on what I had seen at
the Cactus Club, I doubted it. More like
8 minutes.
I gulped. I guess it wouldn't hurt to start
learning how to Western dance. I would
have to find a teacher and pray there was more to Western
dancing than the Cotton Eyed Joe and that ridiculous Step-Touch
dance they called the Texas
Twostep. I had heard some rumor about the Redneck
Polka, but had no idea what they were talking about.
Taking this job was the riskiest thing I had ever considered. However, I was
really desperate. I did not want to give up teaching
dance for anything in the world. No matter how
disgusted I was with Country-Western dancing, teaching
Western dance would be better than teaching no dance at all.
Or would it? There was no guarantee that this would
work. But right now, this Meyerland job seemed like my only opportunity
to continue doing what I loved.
I had an idea.
Why not
hedge my bet? I would say yes, find a teacher and see
if I could learn enough material to satisfy this group.
Surely there had to a western teacher who could help me.
However, if I couldn't find one, then I would call Sandy back and
tell her I had changed my mind. Then she could find
someone else. It wasn't like I was signing a contract.
With my
heart pounding, I said yes.
"That's
wonderful, Rick! But I also need a favor."
My heart stopped
beating again. "Uh, sure, what would that be?"
To my dismay, Sandy threw me a wicked curve.
"You
said your Sundays are free. Can you start this
Sunday??"
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I gasped.
This coming Sunday? "Why so soon, Sandy?"
"The
Gala is the second Saturday in November. If we
start immediately, that gives us 8 Sundays."
Glancing at a
calendar, I replied, "8 Sundays would end in October."
"Yes, but we
have a fashion show scheduled for Sunday, October 7th, so we
have to skip that week. Besides, the
girls are so excited they want to start this
Sunday! If we start now, that gives us two
full
months to learn how to dance before the November Gala!"
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My pulse raced
with anxiety. Good grief,
that would give me only five days to learn something I
had never done in my life. With no teacher, no
experience and little time, I would be so far out on a
limb, my chance of success was next to nothing.
Sensing my hesitation,
Sandy dropped the bomb. "Is this too short a
notice? If it is, I have another person on my list
I can call."
Damn it!!!
Sandy had to be fibbing! But did I dare call her bluff? No!
I would never be able to live with myself if she did indeed
call someone else. Not only did I need that money,
there was a strong possibility the Universe was handing me this
opportunity for a reason. People do not always get second chances.
My mind wandered to the
memory of Katie, the girl who got away. I had prayed
and prayed for a second chance to meet Katie again, but four
years had passed and no luck until Jennifer came along. Sometimes you only get
one shot and this phone call might be it.
I would be insane to ask for a postponement. Recalling my days as the Great
Imposter, I could take things one week at a time. Find enough material to get
through this Sunday, then take my chances from there.
"Uh no, Sandy,
this coming Sunday evening will be fine. I will see
you then. 6 pm, just like the last time, right??"
"Yes,
Rick, correct. Well, good, that is that! I am
so excited! We will see you this Sunday at 6 pm."
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Tuesday, September 4, 1979
OUT ON A LIMB
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I hung up the
phone in a fit of panic.
WHAT HAVE
I DONE?!?!
After lying through my
teeth, I was facing the biggest gamble of
my life. I did not know what I was going to do. I didn't know anyone
to teach me and I
only had six
days to figure it out. This was quite a predicament. I
barely knew more about Western than the people I
had just promised to teach.
But that wasn't
the worst of it. My brief visit to the
Cactus Club had exposed an intolerance within me
that smacked of bigotry. It embarrasses me to admit
the truth, but I was raised a 'Preppie' with all the
inherent city slicker snobbery. Right now Western dancing
was being rammed down my throat against my will by the
mysterious Wizard of Oz.
The Western Transformation was about to take away Disco, the
one thing I truly loved, and replace it with the dreariest form of dancing imaginable.
Hating everything there was to hate about Country-Western, I was consumed
with bitterness. I
despised the
music and I hated
the angry Pasadena rednecks
who beat their kids and flaunted
their prejudice against blacks. Most of all, I hated the
primitive dancing. What
little I had seen disgusted me beyond
comprehension. The Western Era felt like the end of the world.
On the other
hand, I loved teaching dance. This Meyerland
opportunity seemed like my only
way to continue. A very
sobering thought indeed.
Another sobering thought were my
shaky
ethics. I had
just accepted an offer to teach something I knew
nothing about. Teaching
these people was borderline unethical. Kahlil
Gibran wrote in The Prophet that scruples
and high
morals are the province of a well-fed man.
Gibran said hungry men cannot afford the luxury. When you're starving
to death, stealing a biscuit makes a lot of sense.
Just don't get caught. Besides, it was not like I was endangering
anyone's life. Bad
doctors bury their mistakes, bad lawyers put their clients
in jail. A bad dance teacher risks having his students
get their toes stepped on. I could live with that on my conscience.
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Ever
since Cowboy
opened back in February, I feared this day would come. I
had buried my head in the sand like an ostrich, but it was time
to stop avoiding the
problem. Sandy
had just offered a considerable beacon of hope.
$2,000 was a lot of money. Western dancing might
just pay the bills when Disco was gone. Besides, it wasn't like I had a
whole lot of other options. I took a
deep breath. If this was my only hope, then I
better get cracking.
But where to start? I had no one to teach me.
There is
something called 'gut-wrenching panic'. This
is the same kind of feeling one might get if a plane
begins to plummet or the doctor calls to say there is a
problem with a
recent test. That was the kind of feeling I had right
now. As the
implications of my gamble sunk in, I
entered a state of terror. I had FIVE DAYS to
find a solution. With nausea coursing through my body,
I grabbed the Yellow Pages and called two dance studios.
They both said the same thing. No one at their
studio taught country-western. That is what I
had been afraid of. I called two more.
Same thing. Dead End.
As I
drove to my scheduled Tuesday private lesson with Glen,
I prayed he knew something or perhaps he knew someone
who could help. The moment I saw Glen, I
wasted no time asking if he taught Western dancing.
In a huff,
Glen replied,
"Are you out of your mind? Hell, no! I grew up in Pasadena where kicker
dancing is popular. There is nothing to it.
All you do is shuffle around. Not only that, I hate the
music."
"But
Glen, don't you know
how to teach it?"
"Rick, you don't get it.
There's nothing to teach! Kicker
dancing
is so easy people learn it on the spot."
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"... So
easy that people learn it on the spot..."
Those words hit like a
sledgehammer. Glen's rebuke
reminded me of the time Joanne had taught me the
Cotton-Eyed Joe as we danced to the music.
Glen was right. I learned it on the spot.
What was I going to? With a heavy heart, I responded, "Please
tell me you're joking."
"No, I'm not joking. Let me explain something. To people
in the Ballroom community, Country Western
dancing represents the deepest, darkest pit.
In our minds, Country-Western dancing is for pond scum, bottom
feeders, tow truck drivers. It is
considered the lowest, most mediocre form of dancing
that exists. No Ballroom instructor, no Disco
instructor, no Jazz instructor, no Ballet teacher in their right mind
would dream of having anything to do with this kind of
dancing. How do I put this? It is beneath
them."
"Then
why is it so popular in Pasadena?"
"That should be obvious. It gives
men permission to grope women.
Men wrap their smelly arm around a woman's neck. Once the woman is trapped,
they grab the woman's butt with their free hand and
rub their fat beer bellies up against them. They
parade around the floor in the mistaken
belief that women think they're sexy. So to answer
your question, the answer is no, I don't teach
Bubba Dancing and no one else I know teaches
it either. For that matter, I'm not sure
there is anything to teach. Like I said, most people get out on
the floor and learn what little there is from their
partner. Why don't you just go to some club and watch for a
while?"
Damn it.
I had already gone to a club, the Cactus Club. Glen had just
described exactly what I had seen. And he was right
about the teachers. The reason there were no teachers was because
there was nothing to teach. That was my
biggest fear of all... the lack of material.
There was no way I would ever set foot in the
Cactus Club again. I had already
seen all I needed to know Glen was right.
If the Cactus Club was representative of the best
Western dancing had to offer, I had just hit a Dead End.
I would given up on the spot except that I had made a
promise to Sandy.
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There had to
be somebody who could teach me something.
Lance Stevens had taught a Western crash course
a year ago, so I briefly thought of asking him.
But I quickly dismissed the idea.
For one thing, I had watched what he taught in the crash
course. There was nothing to it. There was
no way in hell I was going to teach Put Your
Little Foot like he had. This simple children's dance
was so stupid
I would be laughed out of the building.
Besides, even if
Stevens knew something, I wouldn't go to him. I had come to hate the man. Lance Stevens had
been hostile ever since I met him. He barely even spoke to me any more. The only reason I was still employed
was the vast amount of money I kept putting in his pocket.
The thought of groveling at this man's feet and begging him to
rescue me from this trap I had gotten myself into was
more than my pride could bear. Stevens would
exult in my predicament and begin an entire
new round of criticism about my incompetence.
I would
rather
quit the Meyerland Club job than ask
Lance Stevens for help.
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Tuesday, September 4, 1979
MORE BAD NEWS
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When I
got home from my lesson with Glen, I called one more dance studio, got the same
answer, then gave up calling dance studios.
Now I turned
to my other headache. I called Victoria at home to find out what
she and Michael had
decided during their big Labor Day powwow. I was
incredulous to discover NOTHING was decided. Victoria said Michael got a
last-minute offer to
spend the weekend with friends at a lake house, so they
changed their plans and took Stephanie with them. According to Victoria, other than a brief
conversation down by the lake, there was no real
opportunity for a
serious discussion of their future. I did not
believe a word she said. Here is a couple in the
midst of serious marital problems and Victoria expects
me to believe they postponed making a decision to spend
a relaxing weekend together?
I doubted
there had ever been a 'Labor Day Talk'
scheduled in the first place. More likely
Victoria sensed I was about to cut her loose and had
used this ploy to stall for more time. I was
angry. I had delayed dropping the axe
specifically to grant her request for more time.
Instead she had
reneged on her promise. Oh well, no problem.
I was in such a good mood after meeting Jennifer, I
decided to let Victoria proceed at her own pace.
In my opinion, my upcoming freedom from Victoria's
tentacles was 'fait accompli'. It was just
a matter of time before Victoria caved in and went crawling
back to Michael. Besides, I had more important things
to worry about.
The entire day
passed and I could not think of a solution. Maybe one
of my students knew someone, so that night I addressed both my dance classes. I asked my 7 pm
Tuesday students
if they knew someone who could teach
Country-Western dancing. Not a single person had a
clue. I asked my 8 pm students the same thing.
Same answer. Right now I was so anxious I couldn't see
straight.
After
class, Victoria demanded I go to
her car to talk. I stared at Victoria in disbelief. I
was facing a horrible crisis for which I had no solution and
now Victoria wanted to Negotiate. Give me a
break. Just then, an old Arabic saying crossed
my mind. 'If you are upset over losing a
finger, lose a hand.' If I
wanted to stop thinking about Victoria, how about
the likelihood that my
career was about to end? That brought out an ironic snicker.
Unless something changed, that was exactly what was going to happen.
Hearing
my bitter laugh, Victoria asked, "What's so funny, Rick?"
Driven
to my
wit's end with fear over my Country-Western gamble, I lost
my temper. I replied, "There is nothing
funny, Victoria. You want to negotiate?
Try negotiating with Michael instead of me. You
have wasted my time for over two months and I'm fed
up. I have a suggestion. When you decide
to leave your husband and move in with me, we can
talk. Until then, just leave me alone."
Then I
turned and walked away. To heck with Car Talk. It felt good to defy
Victoria for a change. When I
arrived home, I called Jennifer. I had not
told her about Victoria yet. My hope was Victoria
would make a decision over Labor Day, so I kept mum on
the subject. Now I was too upset to talk about
Victoria. We had a long
talk about the depressing Meyerland Club
situation instead.
"What do you plan to do?"
"I don't
know, Jennifer. I guess I could screw up some courage
and go visit a Western bar and have another look-see. But do you want to
know the truth? I say why bother. Based
on what Glen told me, teaching Country-Western is a
dead end. Based on what I saw at the
Cactus Club, Glen is right, there's
nothing to it. The whole thing is a giant
waste of time. The easiest thing to do is
call that Sandy woman back in the morning and tell her to find someone
else. Except that I doubt there is anyone else."
"What do you
mean?"
"Sandy said she
had other people to call, but I think she was bluffing.
I think she called a bunch of people this morning and I was
the only one foolish enough to say yes. I am convinced
Country dancing is so easy there is no one in town who
teaches it."
"Listen,
Rick, before you give up, let me remind you this
Meyerland job promises to be quite a payday. Not
only that, if it is true there is no one else, if you
can find something to teach, you could be one of the
first people to take advantage of the coming Western
craze."
An interesting
comment. I had not really
thought of it that way. However, I was so disgusted by the
thought of giving up Disco to teach Western, my brain was
still dead set against this.
When I did not
respond,
Jennifer said, "There must be something you can do."
"I agree
with you on one thing. I
don't want to leave all that money on
the table. But what can I do? I called
five studios today and drew a blank on every one of them.
If there are any western teachers, I don't how to find them
and I have no other options."
"You
have a serious problem, but there might be
a real opportunity here if you can get past
this hurdle. Since there doesn't seem to
be anyone else who knows how to teach Western
dancing, maybe you can beat everyone to the
punch."
"That
reminds me of something one of my students said tonight
in class. 'Gee, Rick, are you saying you don't
you know how to teach Country-Western? If you don't
know how to teach it, where else can I go to learn?'"
"That
is exactly my point. Give it some more thought. If you can
lick this problem, who knows where this Western
stuff might take you. My father always
says big problems can lead to big opportunities.
Hey, that reminds me. My family will be in
town this weekend for a Saturday night wedding. We
plan to meet for a late afternoon dinner on Sunday
before they drive back to Dallas. Would you like to
join us for lunch? I can ask Dad."
"Yes, of
course. Is your father paying? I might need a
free meal."
"Ha ha,
very funny. Will I see you tomorrow
night after class?"
"Definitely.
I can't wait."
After
we said goodnight, I sat there in the dark wondering where I
could find a teacher. This was
quite a challenge. There were certain mysteries in
life I could not seem to figure out. How do fish get
in mountain ponds with no streams? Why are
there matching pyramids in Egypt and Central
America? Why is Disco dying in Houston but
nowhere else? Why does Victoria chase an
unemployed dance teacher when she has a
perfectly good husband? But most important of all,
the Zen question of the day: Who teaches the Western teacher
when
there are no Western teachers?
My mind was
made up. I would call
Sandy tomorrow morning and back out.
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WEDNESDAY, September 5, 1979
DOWN TO MY LAST SILVER BULLET
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On Wednesday morning,
I poured some coffee, then sat at my kitchen table wondering
what to do. After 20 minutes or so, I got up and went
to my office. It was time to call
Sandy and tell her the bad news. What choice did I
have? Like Glen said, the dancing was so easy anyone could pick
it up on the spot. After all, Joanne had taught me the
Cotton-Eyed Joe on the dance floor as the music played at
Cactus Club. What could be easier
than that? Hmm. That gave me an idea. What
about Joanne?
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Why didn't I
think of Joanne before? Probably because she said she
never wanted to talk to me again. It was a long shot,
but I had to try. I wasn't very
optimistic. My
last memory of Joanne was her bitterness towards me
following the nasty confrontation at Annabelle's.
Joanne made it clear she did not appreciate
the way she had been treated like a second class
citizen by my Disco crowd. It was one
thing to be the constant target of abuse by
Patricia and Victoria, but another thing entirely to be
subjected to hostility by Disco dancers simply
due to her interest in Western dancing.
I
cringed at the memory of how angry Joanne was as
the group ridiculed her
decision to embrace Western dancing. She
blamed me for introducing her to those
close-minded jerks at Annabelle's.
I was equally close-minded towards C&W, but at least I had the courtesy to keep my
thoughts to myself. Joanne had been mad at me
several times previous for never sticking
up for her in public. Nor had she
forgotten how I
ditched her after our Dangerous
Liaison. No woman ever forgives being
treated like a one-night stand.
Truth be told, I did not blame Joanne one bit
for being bitter towards me. Considering
my lengthy list of transgressions, I deserved to
be put in the doghouse. It was
true I had never defended Joanne in public to Victoria.
Starting with Victoria's "Tirade" back in
January, my fear of having our 'Dangerous
Liaison' exposed had consistently prevented
me from sheltering Joanne from Victoria.
In the end I paid a heavy price for my
cowardice. Ultimately my inability to
shield Joanne had sent the finest dancer
I ever met into exile. Considering how
much Joanne loved Disco dancing, I would always
carry a grudge towards Victoria for being a
bully. Her spiteful behavior had forced my
friend to abandon something she loved
doing.
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Joanne was a dark person by
nature. When we first met, Joanne kept her world as small as possible in order to cope with life
in the big city. She had found it tough to fit in with
our group from the start due to her shyness and
small-town education.
A loner by nature, during her time at Camelot
she had a bad tendency to sit by herself much of
the time. No wonder she was lonely.
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Joanne possessed phenomenal
dancing ability, but even this seemed to work to her
disadvantage. As a rule men are insecure
about their dancing. Joanne rarely got
asked to dance because she was far too
intimidating for the average man to approach.
Her permanent scowl did not help.
Most men assumed the 'Ice Queen'
was too stuck up to dance with them. Why
risk being rejected when other women were
available to ask?
1979 had not been kind to
Joanne. I had seen Joanne take a turn for
the worse. She had developed
a tough exterior and a sharp tongue she used as
a way to protect herself. Her bitterness
had turned her hard. When men did
approach, half the time she bit their head off. It is a
shame Joanne never found a way to come out of her shell
because she was a good woman underneath those sharp
thorns.
Joanne was pretty, but only when she smiled
(which wasn't very often). Mostly
Joanne preferred to frown
and mope over in the corner.
I understood why Joanne had turned so bitter.
Sad to say, Joanne was her own worst enemy.
Since she constantly frowned, the tender types
did not dare approach.
Thanks to her knockout body, the
only men brave enough to come near were
experienced
hustlers who realized her frown masked
loneliness. These guys stuck around till they
got what they wanted, then moved on.
Joanne's luck
with men was bad enough, but she did not
help things with her ignorance of politics. Unable to
disguise her feelings for me, she repeatedly tipped off the
Divas of Discord. To her dismay, Joanne discovered she
was defenseless against the nasty games played by Victoria
and Patricia. Being ridiculed for her interest in
Western dancing by the Disco crowd at
Annabelle's had
been the final straw.
"I swear,
Rick, your dance crowd has brought me more misery than I have
ever experienced in my life. Adios, Amigo."
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Driven into
permanent
exile by
the scorn of the Disco snobs,
Joanne
turned to Country-Western dancing to
regain her sanity.
In her case, that was a wise move. However, I wished she had shown
more discretion the night she lost her temper at
Annabelle's. Here again, Joanne's disdain of
politics did not serve her well. If she had kept her mouth
shut, Joanne would have avoided censure of the
Disco students at our table. Then I could have
continued to invite her to go dancing once in a while and
maintained our friendship. Instead she
blew up at me and slammed the door shut. That had been three months ago.
We had not spoken since.
I was beyond nervous as I dialed
Joanne's number at work. I was very worried Joanne no
longer worked there. If so, I would have no way
to get in touch with her since she did not have a home phone
and I did not have an address.
Even if she answered, I had no idea if Joanne would speak to me.
I also expected she would refuse to help.
Even if she said okay, I was scared there was very
little for her to teach. I was already fairly
certain Country-Western dancing was a complete waste of time.
If that was the case, my dance career was doomed.
But what choice did I have? You've heard the term 'Hail
Mary'? Joanne was officially my
last hope.
As the phone
rang, my heart beat wildly. To
my overwhelming relief,
Joanne answered the phone. Even
better, she sounded happy to hear from me. I could tell by Joanne's voice that
she wasn't mad at me
any more. Thank
goodness! A surge of relief shot
through my body. The woman on the line was the old Joanne, my friend,
not the bitter woman she had turned into at
Annabelle's. Maybe there
was hope after all. My heart
pounded as I told Joanne about my problem.
Unfortunately, as I feared,
Joanne was
very skeptical.
"Rick, I don't have the first clue how to teach Western dancing. All I
do is follow. I have no idea what my feet are
doing, so what makes you think I can tell you what the guy is doing?"
"But Joanne,
surely you can help somehow. There has to be
something you can do. If you can just bring your music,
maybe you can dance by yourself and I can watch how your feet
move."
"I don't
think so. That won't work. Unless a man leads
me, I wouldn't know where to start. I'm sorry, but I cannot tell you a
single thing about how to kicker dance. I never
think about my feet when I dance."
"Joanne,
I am up against a wall. There is no one else but you. You are my
only hope. You are officially the only person I know who has ever been
Western dancing. Look, I'll tell you what, this job
pays a lot of money, maybe as much as $2,000. If you can help me figure out
what to teach, I will split the money from
the Meyerland Club 50-50.
You stand to make $1,000. That's a lot of money. Just promise me you
will try."
The phone stayed
quiet as Joanne thought it over. I was in agony as the
seconds passed.
One minute, an eternity. Finally I heard a deep sigh. That sounded like a good
sign. Thank goodness Joanne was poor. I had a
hunch $1,000 was equal to her monthly salary.
"Okay, Rick,
you win. I got bills to pay. Otherwise I
would tell you it's a waste of time. I'll try to help, but we
need to get going if this gig starts Sunday. I can get off work early
today, so let's meet at 4 pm. Just tell me I'm not going to run
into Victoria."
"No, Victoria
doesn't work on Wednesdays. Don't worry about her."
"Good.
Because otherwise I won't do it. Hey, one more
thing."
I held my
breath. "What's that?"
"Don't expect much."
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