february 20, 1978, the disco years, Age 28 the partner dance crisis begins

It is Monday, February 20, 1978.  This day shall live in infamy.  Back in October 1977 Lance Stevens hired me to teach Line Dancing.  Nowhere in my job description was there any mention of Partner Dancing.  Now I have just been informed by my boss that I have 11 days to prepare to teach people how to Partner Dance.  Considering I had never partner-danced in my life, I nearly fainted at the bad news. 

With my job on the line, I had nowhere to turn.  I bitterly noted that Stevens did not offer to teach me.  Did Stevens even know what Disco Partner Dancing looked like?  Probably not.  Nor did he care.  All he knew was learning to dance came easy to him, so it should come easy to me as well.  Besides, I was the Disco Specialist.  In his mind, that automatically guaranteed this was my problem, not his. 

This incident was an especially cruel demonstration of Stevens' ongoing disdain.  Surely Stevens was aware of the tough spot he put me in.  After all, he made daily fun of my dance mediocrity.  Referring to me as "The Dance Teacher who Couldn't Dance", he could care less that my classes made him a considerable amount of money.  Given my value, wouldn't one expect him to help ensure my continued success?  Not Stevens.  Assuming he could replace me at the drop of a hat, Stevens threw me to the wolves and walked away.

To be honest, who knows what thoughts went through his mind.  Stevens never confided in me, so anything I say is at best speculation.  Stevens did not like me.  However I did not take his treatment personally.  There were a lot of people he didn't like.  Perpetually hostile with an absurdly high opinion of himself, Stevens was a bitter man.  Stevens was so grouchy he made Scrooge look cheerful.  As a result, his sour attitude made it very difficult to approach him for help.  Fearful of getting my head bit off or fired if I upset him in the slightest way, I was on my own if I wanted to solve this partner dance dilemma. 

With my fledgling dance career on the line, this is a good time to hit the Pause Button and conduct a serious Reader-Writer heart to heart.  The mighty oak tree can withstand hurricane-force winds.  However a tiny acorn is quite vulnerable.  I saw myself as the acorn.  This was hopeless.  Or was it?  As my Readers have already guessed, this is not an "Ordinary Book".  For starters, this book is about two completely different people.  Just because we share the same name does not make us the same guy.  One is the relatively sane guy who tells the story while the other is an abnormally insecure guy who was in way over his head.  Do you think I enjoy revealing what a mess I was?  Heck no!  I would much rather be a widely-admired Super-Hero like Superman, able to leap tall buildings or a superior human being like Wyatt Earp, brave, courageous and bold.  But that was not me.  Why do you suppose they tossed me out of graduate school?  Because I was a deeply flawed, deeply insecure young man.  Although I was somewhat improved after my Lost Years, I was still deeply flawed and insecure.  And right now this Partner Dance assignment resembled the Labors of Hercules for impossibility.

Let's play a game.  Call it "Put yourself in Rick's shoes."  How would you have solved this problem?  No doubt my astute Readers will say, "Oh, Rick, quit whining and go find a teacher."  Yeah, good luck with that.  How many times do I have to tell you I WAS THE ONLY DISCO TEACHER IN HOUSTON?  If there are no teachers, who teaches the teacher?  The task at hand seemed so utterly impossible, I did not know what to do.  So instead I sat on my hands and felt sorry for myself. 

"Rick, when you say there are no teachers, what about Stevens?  He is a master.  Surely he knows something of value."

That is a valid argument.  But what about my pride?  I suppose if worse came to worse, I would get on my knees and crawl.  However, I intended to delay this humiliating moment as long as possible and hope for a break.

No doubt my astute Readers will reply, "Well, in that case, you have no time to waste.  Get to work!  Go to a Disco and watch!"

Okay, that makes sense.  Thanks for the tip.  Only one problem.  It was February 20th, 50 days into my dance career.  So far I had only gone dancing once (late January).  Still dealing with my ancient Rejection Phobia, all I did was watch.  Although the club was crowded, there was no partner dancing to be seen.  So why did I only go once?  Working full-time jobs day and night, exhaustion was a serious problem.  I got up at 7 am and worked straight through to 9 pm.  I did not go to a club afterwards because I was too tired to see straight.  I used weekends to recover.  Besides, what good would it do to visit a club?  There was no one to copy!  I was sure of it.  Since I was too busy to visit the clubs, I relied on reports from my students instead.  When asked, they said there was no partner dancing to be seen, just Freestyle and the occasional Line Dance.  Invariably each report was followed by an inquiry. 

"Oh, by the way, Rick, since we are on the subject, when do you expect to begin teaching partner dancing?" 

Frustrated, I wanted my students to cut me some slack.  Where was I going to find the time to visit a dance club?  Not only that, how was I supposed to learn something that did not currently exist in Houston?  Overwhelmed and lacking any idea where to start, I decided this was hopeless.  Unable to seize the bull by its horns, I sank deep into depression.  Given that avoidance and procrastination were second nature to me, I did nothing. 

No doubt my Readers shake their heads with disgust.  "What is wrong with you, Rick?  Are you serious?  You did nothing at all?"

Yes, that is correct.  I did nothing at all.  Given my acute fear of failure, there was no way I could have solved this problem on my own.  However, aren't you forgetting something?  This is not an "Ordinary Book".  This book is not required to make sense using well-established concepts of how Reality works.  When Fate is involved, anything is possible. 

Friday, february 24, 1978, the disco years pistachio club

Three days after Stevens dropped his bombshell, he pulled me over before class.  It was Thursday night, February 23. 

"Archer, have you gotten started on partner dancing yet?"

"Oh, yes, sir, definitely," I lied.  "Don't worry, I will be ready." 

Stevens narrowed his eyes.  No doubt he knew I was lying through my teeth, but fortunately he said nothing.  Instead he walked away.

With Stevens hounding me, I was like the man with a scary pain in his stomach who refuses to go see the doctor for fear of bad news.  I was convinced I would go to a club and see no partner dancing.  This would force me to accept my Dream Job was about to expire.   So instead I went back to the movie theater and watched Saturday Night Fever a second time to get another look at partner dancing.  No luck.  Everything happened too fast for me to grasp what I was seeing.  This felt hopeless. 

The following night, Friday, February 24, I was handed an unexpected stroke of good fortune.  A student named Gary said he and some friends were going to the Pistachio Club after class to check it out. 

"Would you like to join us?" 

"I've never heard of the place, Gary."

"That's because the club just opened last week." 

Curious, I accepted Gary's offer.  Maybe I would see something to help solve my impossible task.

The Pistachio Club was the first of many Houston-area dance clubs to act on the renewed Disco energy.  It was located in Houston's fashionable Galleria district on Post Oak Boulevard three blocks north of Westheimer.  Since Stevens of Hollywood was located on Westheimer, a major Houston artery, it took less than 10 minutes to drive the necessary four miles.

Considering it was a Friday night, the Pistachio Club was doing good business.  Once inside, I immediately moved to the railing to watch the freestyle dancers.  The large rectangular floor was 40 feet long and 30 feet wide.  It was surrounded by a four-foot wall on all sides.  Tables were elevated stadium-style.  Given its height, the wall gave the effect of dancing inside a large box.  An opening at each corner allowed dancers to enter the floor. 

Perched on the wall outlining the dance floor, I desperately scanned the crowd for any sign of partner dancing.  Nothing.  I was soon joined by Gary.  

"Hey, Rick, when are you going to start teaching us how to partner dance?" 

Frustrated, I replied, "Teach it?  First I have to learn it!"

Gary looked at me in shock.  Oops.  Wrong thing to say.  This was like finding out Tarzan didn't know how to swing on vines. 

"You mean you don't know how to partner dance?"

Exasperated, I replied, "All right, Gary, knock it off.  How am I supposed to learn how to partner dance if I don't have anyone to show me?  Nobody in this city knows how to partner dance to Disco music." 

I pointed to the floor to prove my point, then gasped in shock.  To my surprise, a couple had just begun to partner dance right in front of my eyes.  The nearby freestyle dancers moved aside to give them room.  Gary and I watched in rapt appreciation.  Unfortunately, to my great disappointment, the couple sat down when the song ended.  If I had a brain... don't say a word... I would have gone over to them and asked where they learned to dance.  But that thought never occurred to me... which is kind of odd given how desperate I was.

Monday, february 27, 1978, the disco years STEVENS LENDS A HAND

Three nights later, I arrived early for class.  It was Monday evening, February 27.  When Lance Stevens saw me, he pulled me aside to remind me yet again he had ordered me to add partner dance to my March classes, the first of which started in four days.  

"I've been getting a lot of calls from people who want to learn how to partner dance to Disco music.  They say they want to dance like Travolta in the movie.  How are you coming on partner dance?"

This was the moment I had been dreading.  Having lied to him once, I could not lie about this again. 

"This is not an easy project, sir.  But at least I found a place where I can go to learn something.  I went dancing on Friday night and saw a couple who were pretty good partner dancers.  I promise to keep working on this.  In fact, I am headed back to the Pistachio Club after class tonight."

I trembled as I spoke.  When Stevens rolled his eyes at this latest proof of my incompetence, I expected the axe to fall right there.  But I was wrong.  Instead, Stevens had a change of heart and offered to help.  I suppose Stevens realized he would be hard-pressed to find someone else on short notice, so I was his only option at this point.

"Oh, hell, I figured it would come to this.  Listen, your Friday class is only four days away.  I can't take a chance of letting you drop the ball, so let me show you what to do."

We had half an hour before class started, so Stevens took me onto the main dance floor.  He proceeded to show me something he called 'Disco Swing'.  The word 'Swing' triggered a memory.  Sure enough, the patterns Stevens taught me resembled the Swing dancing Jack had taught Katie and me in his Ballroom class three years ago.  An immediate fear surged through me.  Katie's disappointment in my mediocre dancing was still a bitter memory.  Now with Stevens watching, I expected to fail again.  I steeled myself for another round of his typical disapproval only to surprise myself.  I wasn't all that bad.  Although I had forgotten most of what I had learned from Jack, the patterns came back fairly quickly when Stevens showed them to me again. 

Stevens barked, "Good.  You seem to understand.  Now teach that to your students."  He glared at me for emphasis, then continued.  "Don't let me down.  When people call, I am promising them my studio's March Disco classes will feature partner dancing.  I don't want to be handing out refunds or turning customers away.  Do you hear me?"

Stevens stared straight at me.  I said nothing, but made sure to nod.   Stevens went hummph and walked away.  I got the drift.  He expected me to teach Disco Swing when my class started in four days... "or else".  My job was officially on the line.  If I couldn't do it, he would find someone or teach the class himself.  I was perplexed by his behavior.  Despite his obvious contempt, he had surprised me by offering to help.  After careful thought, it dawned on me Stevens had just as much to lose as I did.  This job meant the world to me.  It would break my heart to have this opportunity ripped away just when I was getting started.  I wanted to teach dancing for the rest of my life, so what would I do if Stevens lowered the boom?  That fear dominated me morning, day, and night.

Monday, february 27, 1978, the disco years Suzy Q

Suzy, 38, was an angel who came to my rescue.  Suzy and her husband Chip were Ballroom students of Stevens.  Although Chip could care less, Suzy liked Disco music.  This is why she decided to take my Monday class.  Suzy was a small woman, thin, petite, with short blonde hair.  She was very pretty and I liked her.  Too bad she was married. 

Unfortunately, there was something wrong with what Stevens had taught me.  The Disco Swing patterns Stevens showed me were similar to what I had seen on Friday night, but way too slow.  The pace seemed half as fast.  Nevertheless, I was relieved.  At least I finally had a place to hang my hat.  This material would serve as my fall-back option in case the Pistachio Club did not come through.  With pressure mounting, I decided to skip going dancing after my Monday class ended.  Instead I asked Suzy to stick around and help me review Stevens' Disco Swing patterns before I forgot them. 

Suzy was happy to help, but I noticed she lacked confidence.  Don't get me wrong, her dancing was good, but she seemed to lack self-esteem.  Hmm.  Join the crowd.  Suzy did not seem to notice our age difference.  Thanks to our quick rapport, I called her 'Suzy Q' after one of my favorite songs.  Suzy did not seem to mind, so the nickname stuck.

After playing with Disco Swing for a while, I realized what Stevens had done.  Based on my limited knowledge from Jack's Ballroom class, Stevens taken East Coast Swing, a dance based on 4 steps to six beats (slow slow quick quick) and modified it to take four steps in four beats.  '1-2-Back-Step, 1-2-Back Step' danced at Even Tempo. 

Now I understood why Stevens called it 'Disco Swing'.  It was Swing footwork modified to fit a different speed of music.  I was proud of myself for discerning what should have been an obvious insight (don't say anything).  Unfortunately, there was a major problem.  'Disco Swing' was not what they had done in the movie.  Nor was it what the Pistachio couple had done on Friday night.  There were similarities, but it was not a match.  Well aware the Friday Night Pistachio couple had moved at a much faster clip, my heart sank.  Disco Swing was not my answer.  Stevens' Disco Swing was a snail's-paced joke compared to the lightning-fast moves I had seen Friday night.

I would be laughed out of class if I taught this hokey-pokey fake instead of the real thing.  However I did not dare tell Stevens that.  I recalled arguing with Dr. Fujimoto in Graduate School and got myself expelled in the process.  Since I didn't dare ask Stevens for more help, where was I going to learn what I needed?  I had three nights left.  I decided to return to the Pistachio Club Tuesday night and watch like a hawk. 

Tuesday, february 28, 1978, the disco years a ray of hope

Tuesday night, February 28.  Rather than go to the Pistachio Club after class, I went before class instead.  My class at Stevens of Hollywood would not start till 8 pm, so I thought that maybe Happy Hour would draw a big crowd. 

It was now 6:15 pm.  Hoping to spot something, I went over to the railing to study the dancers on the floor.  To my profound relief, there were two couples out there who were good partner dancers.  However, very little of what they did resembled Stevens' 'Disco Swing'.  These people were jet planes compared to the plodding 'Disco Swing'. 

On the bright side, I was glad to know there were at least a few people who could partner dance in Houston.  I had a theory called 'Latest and Greatest'.  I assumed the best dancers congregated in the latest hot spot so they could see and be seen.  It was my dumb luck to stumble upon the Pistachio Club, the new 'Latest and Greatest'.  At least now I had a place to see what I needed to learn.  However, nothing the couples did made a bit of sense to me.

My friend Patsy Swayze once explained that good dancers can see a move and copy it without thinking.  Not me.  I was far too analytical to grasp how these fast moves worked.  Due to my helplessness, I was overcome with gut-wrenching panic.  I felt the same kind of fear that being lost in the forest might provoke.  How was I ever going to solve this problem?  Feeling overwhelmingly insecure, my job depended on this, but I did not have a clue what the dancers were doing.  I cursed my inadequacy.  Why did I always have to be such a slow learner!?  What I saw was much too complicated to know where to start.  I watched the two couples for 20 minutes without learning a thing.  Soon I would have to leave empty-handed.  I was just about to give up when something caught my eye. 

I noticed a recurring move used by both couples.  It was a repetitive pattern where the man and woman alternated going under their right arm.  Although they used all four hands, they only went under their right arm.  'Guy turn left, Girl turn left' over and over performed at the speed of lightning.  Treating this like a logic puzzle, I had found a useful clue.  Hmm.  This move can't be that hard to learn, right?  On impulse, I asked the girl standing next to me if she would help. 

"Excuse me, but do you know how to do that move out there?"  I pointed to the nearest couple as they danced.

"I'm sorry, but I've never partner danced before.  But you can practice with me if you want."

Thank goodness!  I was so desperate I completely forgot I had a Phobia about talking to girls I did not know.  I picked up her hands and tried to imitate what I had just seen.  However, when every conceivable hand combination failed, I quit in disgust.  Dejected, I went back to watching.  In the process, I had embarrassed the girl, so she disappeared the moment I turned my back.  Feeling foolish, I was even more miserable than before.  What was wrong with me?  Why does everything always have to be such an uphill struggle?   Frustrated, I could not figure out how they appeared to turn using two hands without letting go!!  Since I had tried every two-hand combination I could think of with that girl, this made no sense.  How many two-hand combinations can there be? 

My problem grew worse as more people arrived.  The floor became so crowded it prevented me from getting a clean look at the two couples who knew how to partner dance.  In addition, the Disco lights were flashing, so I was getting all kinds of distorted images.  The worse problem was the intermittent nature of my target pattern.  This special move came and went like a lightning bug who flashes once, then disappears.  I would notice the move out of the corner of my eye, but then it was gone.  Then another couple would do the move, but discontinue before I could study it further.  My eyes flitted from one couple to another hoping to solve the riddle, but it was no use.  I was getting nowhere and the pressure was unbearable.  I felt like everything depended on solving this riddle.

A new girl had taken the spot next to me on the railing.  In desperation I pointed to the move on the floor and asked her if she knew how to do that move.  She said sure, so I asked her to help.  First she grabbed both of my hands.  Then she laughed. 

"My name is Sue Ann.  If you want my help, you will have to buy me a drink." 

Gladly!!!!  And so the lesson began. 

First Sue Ann explained how the arms work.  "As you go under your right arm, you need to let go of my bottom hand on your waist.  No, don't let go like that.  After you let go, you need to slide your left hand across my waist."  After showing me what she meant, Sue Ann exclaimed, "Yeah, that's it.  By sliding your hand, that way you can easily pick up my released hand on the other side of my body." 

Aha!  Worked like a charm!  I suddenly understood where my error had been.  This sliding hand trick had given the illusion of not letting go.  I felt so sheepish.  In my ignorance, I had assumed the man or woman held on with their bottom hand.  Wrong.  The flashing lights and fast movements had disguised the rapid hand release and recapture trick.  I guess that's why they say the hand is faster than the eye.  I smiled with huge satisfaction.  Tada, mystery solved!!  Having learned my first-ever official partner dance move, I was overcome with relief.  I could not have been more proud of myself to finally make some progress.  Just then I felt a nudge in my back.  

Sue Ann was staring at me expectantly.  "Hey, Mister, where's my drink?"

I was more than happy to deliver.  Looking at my watch, I had ten minutes left till I had to leave.  To save time, we walked to the bar.  I ordered a celebratory drink for myself as well.  While we waited for our drinks, I asked where she learned that move. 

"Oh, that's an old Aggie Jitterbug move," Sue Ann replied.

I was about to ask her what the Aggie Jitterbug was, but our drinks arrived and I got distracted paying for them.  I clinked Sue Ann's glass and thanked her profusely.  Then I chugged down my bourbon and coke like a soft drink.  Given that my nerves were shot, I needed this drink in the worst way.  But at least I was in a better mood.  On the spot, I named Sue Ann's move the 'Pistachio Step'.  Over the years, I would remember this moment with great fondness.  Meeting Sue Ann at the last possible moment had been a truly lucky break.  I might add that buying her this drink was quite possibly the best investment I ever made.  This breakthrough would prove to be a major step in solving the Partner Dance Crisis.

Wednesday, march 1, the disco years THE AGGIE JITTERBUG

It was Wednesday, March 1.  I had two nights left to solve this problem.  The moment Stevens saw me walk in, he called me over for reassurance that I would be ready.  Stevens wasted no time. 

"Have you worked on that Disco Swing material I taught you?  Don't forget you have a new class starting on Friday and several more the following week.  I have promised every caller for the past month that 'partner dancing' will be featured.  Are you ready?"

I had one lousy move, Sue Ann's Pistachio Step, and that was it.  What was I supposed to say, the truth?  I replied, "I'm working on it, Mr. Stevens, I'm working on it.  I won't let you down."

Stevens stared at me skeptically.  "I don't see what your problem is.  Just teach them the Disco Swing.  That will make them happy."

When I said nothing, Stevens shook his head in disgust and stalked off.  Tick tick tick.  I was in a race to keep my job and time was running out.  Making things worse, I had been given a direct order to teach something I did not believe in.  The partner dancing at the Pistachio Club only vaguely resembled Stevens' Disco Swing.  I preferred to teach what I saw in the club, not this weird East Coast Swing concoction Stevens had crammed down my throat.  I was prepared to teach the 'Pistachio Step' on Friday, but what would Stevens say when he saw me disobey him?  Fortunately I had experienced an attitude shift courtesy of Sue Ann.  Now that I had one move under my belt, I wasn't going to give up without a fight.  So after my 8-9 class finished, I went to the Pistachio Club after class to watch some more.  Watching one couple in particular, 'Disco Swing' was not as far off as I thought.  Several of the patterns I saw them perform were similar to Disco Swing, but too slow.  If I could find a way to blend the 'Pistachio Step' with other 'Disco Swing' patterns and make it go faster, I might have something.  Unfortunately, it was getting very late, nearly 11 pm.  Time to go.

Just then I saw something else, so I stopped.  As I leaned on the railing, someone came up from behind and tapped me on the shoulder.  Locked in concentration like my life depended on it (which it did!), I jumped out of my skin and yelped in fear.  Embarrassed at losing control, I turned around to behold a very pretty girl smiling at me.  She looked about 21, seven years my junior.  Noting she wore a skin-tight leotard outfit to accentuate a swimsuit model's figure, my jaw dropped.  This girl was way out of my league.  But who is she?

Taken aback by my reaction, the girl said, "I am so sorry I scared you.  Are you Rick?"

"Uh, yes," I replied with a wan smile.  Totally bewildered, that was the best I could do.

"I thought that was you.  I was across the room and saw you standing here.  I came to one of your dance classes last month.  You're a good dancer."

Really?  Given the problems I was having, I didn't feel like a particularly good dancer.  When I said nothing, Janie continued.

"My name is Janie.  I'm waiting for my boyfriend Alex.  Would you like to dance?"

I hesitated.  Due to my infamous Rejection Phobia, I had taken three years of dance lessons specifically to deal with my fear of approaching women I did not know.  Although the Phobia was not as bad as it used to be, I was still too shy to ask women I did not know to dance.  However, I had no problem accepting an offer, especially from this amazing girl who had just complimented me.  So we went out on the floor to dance Freestyle. 

When we were done, I asked Janie if I could buy her a drink.  This trick had worked with Sue Ann last night, so let's try it again.  I was relieved when Janie nodded yes.  For one thing, this young lady was a serious babe.  Plus I could really use a friend at the moment. 

Waiting for our drinks to arrive, I said, "Janie, I have a question.  My classes run for eight weeks.  Why did you come to only one class?"

"Oh, you're going to be mad at me, but I didn't pay.  I'm a Senior up at Texas A&M.  I come down to Houston all the time to visit my boyfriend Alex who graduated last year.  When I came down last month, Alex was taking your class that night, so he invited me to come along.  He said your class was crowded and no one would care.  You taught Freestyle and a line dance called the 'Bus Stop.'  Your class was a lot of fun."

I laughed.  I remembered that night.  Janie was right on both accounts.  Yes, my classes were crowded and, yes, no one cared if she snuck in.  Since no one guarded the door to check people, anybody could walk in.  With sixty people in the class, one extra person would hardly be noticeable.  Relaxing a little bit, I decided to tease her.  Smiling, I said, "Well, Janie, that means you got a free class.  That means you are totally in debt to me."

Janie laughed.  "Oops, that'll teach me not to tell the truth.  I hope you're not mad at me.  Tell you what, later on we can dance again and this time we can partner dance."

I instantly grew tense.  Janie thought she was doing me a favor, but instead she had touched my rawest nerve.  "Uh, okay," I replied. 

Noting my hesitation, Janie asked, "Do you like to partner dance?"

With a rueful smile, I confessed.  "I'm sorry, Janie, but I'm not much of a partner dancer.  I only know one lousy step."

Janie giggled at my admission.  "Well, at least you know something.  That's more than most guys.  Show me your big move!"

So I picked up Janie's hands and went to the Pistachio Step.  Considering how pretty Janie was, I took great care not to break her nose with my elbow when I went under my right arm. 

A big smile crossed Janie's face.  She laughed, then exclaimed. "I know that move!  That's the Aggie Jitterbug!"

My eyes grew wide.  Sue Ann had mentioned the Aggie Jitterbug last night.  "What is the Aggie Jitterbug?"

"Everyone up at Texas A&M knows that move.  We use that move all the time at our dance parties.  It works to all kinds of music."

I had no idea what she was talking about.  However, I was infinitely curious, so I peppered Janie with several questions.  "Are there other moves to the Aggie Jitterbug?"

"Oh, sure, Rick, there are lots of moves.  I dance the Aggie Jitterbug all the time at the school dances."

My face lit up with hope.  "Can you show me?"

"Of course.  A lot of the moves aren't that tough."

With a sense of excitement, I walked with Janie over to an empty corner of the room next to the Exit door.  Janie knew exactly what to do.  Although men are supposed to lead, a woman can 'back-lead' if she knows a move well enough.  To my relief, Janie was an expert 'Back-Leader'.  In a sense, I was following just like a girl would.  Janie grabbed my hands and led the Pistachio Step, adding this was the primary move of the Aggie Jitterbug.  Then she did a Boy Turn-Girl Turn move using one arm instead of two.  Then she caught my free hand and swung me with her hands held low and wide.  I recognized this move.  It resembled the 'Disco Swing' move that Stevens called the 'Swingaround'.  However, when Janie did it, her Swingaround moved faster.  Then she exited the 'Swingaround' using the 'Pistachio Step'.  Wow!  My eyes lit up.  I was surprised to see how nicely the Swingaround and the Pistachio Step fit together. 

Now Janie stopped.  "That's it!  You've just learned everything I know.  Or if you want to throw me in the air, we can always try that."

Worried that she was serious, I blanched.  "Uh no, Janie, let's keep everything on the ground for now.  What you have shown me is awesome.  You have been wonderful!  Can I try it with you again?  I want to see if I can remember this well enough to practice later on."

"Sure, but only if you promise that I have repaid my debt."

"You have nothing to worry about.  Now it's my turn to be in debt to you.  In fact, I am so much in debt to you it is ridiculous.  You may have saved my career."

"Oh, don't be silly.  However, maybe you can do me a favor."

"What's that, Janie?"

"You can teach Alex how to partner dance.  That's why he took your January-February class in the first place.  He told me he was really disappointed when you didn't cover partner dancing in February."

I rolled my eyes.  Until I learned how to teach partner dancing, my ignorance on this subject promised endless torment. 

"Why don't you teach Alex yourself?  If you can teach me, you can teach anyone."

"Oh, I tried, but he's a guy.  Boys don't listen to girls, especially to girlfriends.  Alex claims it's too embarrassing to have his girlfriend teach him how to dance.  Alex has a thin skin if you know what I mean.  But I think he would listen to you.  He likes your jokes and your sarcasm.  He loves it when you pick on people for mistakes and tease them."

I smiled.  "Okay, Janie, you have a deal.  You send Alex to next Friday's class and I will show him what you taught me tonight.  No charge.  Please come with him if you are in town.  But first I want you to go through this with me one more time."  

As we practiced, this moment had the feel of a giant breakthrough.  Janie had given me several excellent ideas.  Best of all, by back-leading the Aggie Jitterbug, Janie had given me an idea how these moves were supposed to feel, how they were connected, and the best order in which to use the moves.  I made a mental note to test these ideas with Suzy Q tomorrow night. 

I wanted to dance with Janie further, but to my chagrin Alex showed up.  Too bad.  I had developed a big crush on Janie.  Fortunately, Alex didn't suspect a thing, so everything was cool.  In fact, Alex laughed when he saw me.  "Hey, you're my dance teacher!  How are you doing, Rick?  Did you teach Janie anything useful?"

"No," I said.  "Actually Janie was teaching me."  Alex was a nice guy.  I felt guilty for coveting his awesome girlfriend.

"Yeah, I know the feeling.  Janie tries to teach me too, but I always get flustered."  Alex smiled ruefully.  "It really irritates me that Aggie girls don't need lessons.  All they have to do is follow.  You can't get Janie off the floor at A&M."

Janie chimed in.  "Alex is right.  I dance at A&M every chance I get, but mostly to country music, not Disco.  I like Disco, but it isn't very popular in Aggie Land."

We chatted a moment longer, but this had been a long night and I was really tired.  Working two jobs plus hanging out here at the Pistachio Club was starting to wear me down.  But mostly I wished Janie had not been so pretty.  Hanging out with her reminded me how lonely I was.  However, before turning my attention to women, first I needed to get past this partner dance crisis.

THURSDAY, march 2, 1978, Age 28, the disco years PARTNER DANCE SYNCHRONICITY

The following night, Thursday, Suzy Q met me before class to help me review Janie's Aggie Jitterbug patterns.  I had a career to save and I was determined to do just that.  After an hour of practice, the various patterns fell into place.  However, at that moment something very upsetting occurred to me.

"I like what we have covered, Suzy, but it won't be enough to fill an entire hour.  Plus, what will I teach the next week?"

Suzy stared at me for a moment.  "Did Stevens order you to stick to partner dancing the entire hour?"

"No."  I paused for a moment as a new idea popped into my head.  "In fact, that gives me an idea.  What if I just show them two moves to whet their thirst, then switch to my usual Freestyle and Line Dance patterns to fill up the rest of the hour?"

Suzy nodded.  "Okay, that's a good idea.  But what if they ask for a demonstration?  And what about next week's class?  What will you teach then?"

This was a serious problem.  So serious in fact that I had to sit down and think about it.  Out of nowhere, I had another insight.

"If I just teach a little bit at a time, that will give me an entire week to go back to the Pistachio Club and find something new to teach the following week.  I don't need to know everything ahead of time.  I just need to stay one step ahead of my students and pretend that I am an expert."

Suzy's face lit up.  "That's a great idea!  How did you think of that?"

"I don't know, it just came to me

This idea was brilliant.  I did not need to know how to partner dance well.  I just needed to stay one step ahead of my students.  By adding one move each week, I could be learning how to partner dance at the same time I was teaching it.  This moment was the birth of my unusual 'Fake it till you Make it' strategy.  Hmm.  This strategy might just work.  With the realization that I had fighting chance of surviving this ordeal, waves of relief washed over me. 

The following night I taught the Pistachio Step-Swingaround combination, but saved the Boy Turn-Girl Turn combination for next week.  I won't lie and say I was a roaring success in my Friday debut.  To be honest, it was difficult to explain how these moves worked.  I might add that several girls almost got hit in the nose by flying elbows.  But my students were tickled pink and that's all that mattered.  I would live to fight another day.  First I thanked my lucky stars, then I quietly thanked Sue Ann, Janie, and Suzy Q.  Good grief, even grumpy old Lance Stevens had chipped in.  Thanks to an implausible series of lucky breaks, I had learned just enough to scrape through my first class by the skin of my teeth.  After that, in the days and weeks to follow, I turned into a mad scientist and made sure to steadily build on my concoction with additional patterns.  I have no way to know for sure, but I am fairly sure I was the first person in Houston to teach Disco partner dancing in a group class format. 

Were these encounters just an accident?  And let us not forget the timely 'Fake it till You Make it' insight.  Was that my idea?  Or did it come from beyond?  That is a question I cannot answer.  All I know is that in the space of four days I accomplished what had seemed impossible.  This was like a dream sequence where random people float in, offer a valuable suggestion, then float back out never to be seen again.  Something strange was going on, I was sure of it.  I was convinced this series of lucky breaks were Supernatural in origin. 

In Hindsight, I will never forget how improbable my success was.  To begin with, I was not given sufficient time to tackle this near-impossible project.  Making matters worse, I wasted precious time with procrastination.  I had no teacher, I had no experience, and I had trouble copying dance moves simply by watching.  Given all these factors, my last-minute close call felt miraculous.   I would have never succeeded if certain people had not come to my rescue.  I marveled as people appeared with the precision of a Swiss watch to help me over each hurdle.  Given how their contributions seemed perfectly coordinated, I was forced to wonder if the Hidden Hand of God was involved.

1. A student named Gary suggested I visit the Pistachio Club.  As the newest hot spot, the Pistachio Club attracted partner dance couples to its premises for me to watch.

2. Lance Stevens showed me how East Coast Swing moves could be converted to Disco.

3. Suzy, a woman I met in one of my classes, was knowledgeable about Swing dancing and willing to help me every time I asked. 

4. I was fortunate to recognize a recurring move, the Pistachio Step.  By coincidence, Sue Ann, a woman who knew how to do the Pistachio Step, came to stand next to me. 

5. One night after Sue Ann, my big break came when Janie appeared out of nowhere to teach me the Aggie Jitterbug. 

6. The following night Suzy and I had an amazing Breakthrough practice session where everything - footwork, pattern sequence - fell into place at once.

7.  A timely insight, Fake it till You Make it', proved to be a career-saving strategy.

Could I have accomplished this on my own?  Absolutely not.  Fortunately, thanks to those mysterious Messengers, my Herculean task was made possible.  In Hindsight, none of these events were particularly dramatic when they stood alone.  However, when presented as a unified whole, I saw them as a Synchronicity, a sequence of linked events that offered definitive proof that miracles do happen. 

Suspicious

Coincidence
Synchronicity

the disco years, Age 28 the SECRET OF MY SUCCESS

Why do people take Ballroom lessons?  Because Ballroom is too complicated to learn on one's own.  Now, thanks to John Travolta, the same thing happened to Disco.  Partner dancing was so complicated that even good dancers found it difficult to pick up just by watching.  It would save a lot of time and frustration if someone could explain the system to them.

As a result, dance teachers had a reason to rejoice.  Thanks to John Travolta and Partner Dancing, in Act Two there was finally money in teaching Disco.

Was this a Good Break for me or a Bad Break?  Surely the lure of Disco Dollars would perk up the ears of every professional dance teacher in Houston.  How could I ever hope to compete with the pros?  Now that there was a real need for trained dance teachers, surely I was toast.  Or maybe not. 

At this point I witnessed an incredible twist of fate.  Although analytic types are often clumsy and self-conscious at Freestyle, Partner Dancing was a place where Men who Think Too Much could excel.  Why is that?  Partner Dancing relies on precise leads, disciplined footwork, plus memorized patterns which require concentration and the ability to think on one's feet. 

In other words, Disco Partner Dancing leveled the playing field.  For the first time, cerebral dancers could look just as good on the dance floor as natural dancers.  As a result, in Act Two the Nerds joined the Hotshots in the sand box.  With the World of Dance flipped on its axis, I was there to take advantage.  As a dancer, I was never good enough to compete in contests or show off in exhibitions.  However, as a teacher, I had a knack for breaking down steps in a way that analytical people could readily understand. 

To a seasoned pro like Lance Stevens, it only took him one look at my spastic dancing to predict I had no chance of success as a dance teacher.  Referring to me as "The Dance Teacher who Couldn't Dance", Stevens ridiculed my inexperience at the finer points such as styling, choreography matched to music, showmanship.  These were valid criticisms.  However, Stevens failed to recognize I had certain skills uniquely attuned to the people I was teaching.  I was an 'idiot savant', a person with exceptional aptitude in one particular field.

But that was not the only explanation.  I am leaving something out.  The answer should be obvious.  Luck.  During the early years of my dance career I was incredibly lucky.    Quite frankly Stevens was astonished that I managed to survive the Partner Dance crisis.  However, my good luck did not stop there.  Every time I got in a jam, something happened or someone came along to bail me out.  Each time, Lance Stevens watched in amazement as a man he judged incompetent scraped through.   Stevens was upset because he knew from experience that my uncanny success defied all common sense.  Baffled by my inexplicable good luck, Stevens grew meaner and frequently threatened to fire me.  Fortunately, I made him so much money that he always backed down.  But Stevens wasn't happy about it.

In 2006, Elizabeth Gilbert wrote a best seller titled Eat, Pray, Love.  Gilbert's memoir chronicled her trip around the world after her divorce.  During this time, she made several spiritual discoveries, including one incident where she met God.  Gilbert listed one remarkable lucky break after another that frankly challenged the limits of one's credibility.  For example, when Lori Leibovich of Salon reviewed the book, she commented that "Gilbert seems to have an unlimited amount of luck", "Her good fortune seems limitless", "Is it possible for one person to be this lucky?" 

Speaking for myself, I had no trouble believing anything Gilbert wrote because the same things could be said about me.  However, oddly enough, Leibovich's comment made me think of Lance Stevens.  In some ways I actually felt sorry for Stevens.  He had no idea that I was Destiny's Child, the beneficiary of more good luck than any man had the right to expect.  But what I supposed to do, try to explain it to him?  Of course not.  Lance Stevens was not a particularly open-minded man.  He would never believe I was taking a Magic Carpet Ride.

But I bet my Readers would.