The problem with having a temperamental boss who wanted to get rid of me meant that one serious mistake could mean the end.  I had gone to extraordinary lengths to please the man, but given his low opinion of my ability, I lived in constant fear of making a fatal mistake.   I also lived in constant fear that another dance teacher might come along and replace me. 

I had almost no margin for error.  Finding new moves was not as easy as one might think.  Partner dancing was in its infancy here in Houston.  There was a near-total absence of top-flight dancers to copy moves from.  Due to the slim pickings, more often than not there was no back-up move if something went wrong with the 'New Move of the Week'.  The scouting was a time-consuming process.  First I had to spot a new move.  This might require one hour, sometimes two.  There were times when I would go home empty-handed in which case I would have to go back the next night and try again.  Once I found a move, I would spend another hour or two at the studio with a female volunteer.  Sometimes Suzy Q helped, sometimes it was a different lady if Suzy was not available.  Together we would figure out how the move worked and find ways for me to break the move down in a logical way for my students.  Once I knew what I was doing, the New Move would take all of 20 minutes to teach.  It aggravated me no end that I was forced to dedicate three to four hours per week to create a mere 20 minutes of new programming. 

The constant expenditure of time was wearing me out.  What curse had doomed me to figure this out on my own?  It irritated me to see these dance patterns I had slaved to learn became a piece of cake for my students.  That's because they had me to explain it to them.  Look how hard I was working just so Stevens could get rich and my students barely had to lift a finger.  Why couldn't I have a teacher to teach me?  Then one day I realized my value to these students.  I recognized how a dance teacher is similar to a forest guide.  It was my job to save these people valuable time.  They wanted to join the Disco Party as fast as they possibly could.  So rather than go to a Disco and try to figure it out on their own, they came to me.  Same with a forest guide.  A first-time visitor could probably figure out all the trails themselves, but without a map or someone to point out the best places, it might take days or weeks.  What if they were in a hurry, perhaps only one day to visit?  Same for Disco.  No doubt there were a few eagles who figured out patterns on their own, but the vast majority would prefer to have me explain it to them in nice, bite-sized packages. 

By and large, my students were busy professionals who appreciate my service.  I know this for a fact because they told me so.  As a result, my resentment over the heavy investment of time abated.  I also realized the difficulty of learning how to Partner Dance on my own was helping me carve out a career.  Pre-Saturday Night Fever, Line dances and Freestyle were so easy that most people could learn by watching.  Things were different now.  Partner Dancing was so complicated that most students required a teacher.  In the old days, this meant taking expensive private lessons to learn things the right way, the Lance Stevens way. 

Not any more.  Thanks to my group classes and my New Yorker invention, I was able to teach partner dancing quickly, effectively, and inexpensively.  Now, let's be realistic.  I wasn't churning out junior John Travolta's.  No doubt the purists would accuse me of dumbing things down to the lowest common denominator.  But that was unfair.  Dance classes were like ski school which is typically taught in groups.  Following the ski school model, I separated my program into Beginner, Intermediate, and Advanced levels.  The day would come when I added Super-Advanced.  This gave my students a good reason to stick around.  Students could take the next class if they wished or repeat their class over again.  All for one-tenth the cost they would have paid in private lessons.  Over the first part of the year, the combination of added training and lots of practice produced an army of very good dancers.  Maybe not competition level, but definitely someone people enjoyed watching.  I might add there was an added benefit, call it 'esprit de corps'.  As students got to know each, bonds were formed.  This led to a mutual enthusiasm, devotion, and regard for each other.  I loved how the students encouraged each other and persuaded their friends to join them in the next level.  Groups formed that enjoyed going dancing together after class or on another night.  And need I remind everyone that Love was in the air?  My group classes were perfectly tailored to the singles who comprised 70% of the students.  Once that good old Slow Dance and Romance got under their skin, the pheromones reached fever pitch.

Keep in mind these benefits were not available to private lesson students.  Totally by accident (or celestial design), I had stumbled on a formula never before seen at a dance studio.  These group classes had a tangible magic that I could never have anticipated.  There was another benefit as well.  By forcing me to develop my own classes, I was given free reign to structure them any way I wished.  This turned out to be blessing because it allowed me to be creative.  Whether the perfection of my group class format was due to my own ingenuity or something whispered to me from beyond I will never know.  What I do know if that my group classes were a serious innovation at the time.  By this time other studios had classes.  However my program was always in the lead.  There was a good reason for that.  As other teachers were busy developing Beginner classes, I was developing Advanced classes.  In the process I demonstrated that there was serious money to be made using Group Classes, an avenue that had never really been explored before.

Suddenly I no longer minded all the unpaid hours.  If I could become an expert, then I could keep my dream job and hopefully the Magic Carpet Ride would last forever.  This realization made my ordeal much easier to bear.  I suppose I should give Lance Stevens some credit.  His constant demand for new levels spurred me to greater heights.  Not only that, by ignoring me, I learned to figure things out for myself.  Should I thank him?  The answer is no.  This was the perfect example of how your worst enemy can create an unexpected silver lining.  Or, if you prefer the Mystical explanation, perhaps Lance Stevens' animosity was God's way of helping me fulfill my Destiny. 

April 1978 PARANOIA

In the third week of April, I caught a break.   Someone finally had the sense to get rid of 'Copy Me' Carlos, the worthless dance teacher at the Pistachio Club.  A new guy named Max took over the free Happy Hour dance lessons on Tuesdays from 6 till 6:30 pm. 

Max had lots of fresh ideas, but he also had a firm rule to teach the same material two weeks in a row.  Learn it one week, review it the next.  This meant I could not count on Max to rescue me with a 'New Move' every week.  It was hit or miss.  Sometimes Max came through for me, sometimes he didn't.  If Max came through, then I would ask Suzy or some other girl to help me analyze the move later the same night or the next day. 

Unfortunately, sometimes Max taught a move I already knew.  If Max did not come through, then I would have to stand at the railing and peer into the throng of dancers waiting for someone to do something interesting.  Then I prayed I could remember it well enough to reconstruct it later.

One week at a time, slowly but surely I assembled a new set of moves.  Sweetheart.  Cuddles.  Reverse Cuddles.  Around the World.  Mister Twister.  Peekaboo.  Stop Sign.  To my undying relief, my One Step Ahead strategy was working.  To my surprise, even the two-humped Intermediate/Advanced 'Cuddles Class' took shape. 

However, the neverending stress of maintaining this charade wore me down.  Tired and frustrated, sometimes I grew impatient.  As we know, that is when accidents happen.  One night I inadvertently hurt a woman named Janice who was trying to help me.  Max had taught a very complicated move called the 'Pretzel' at his free Disco class.  I could not stay and practice because I had to get to class at 7 pm.  This Pretzel pattern was so complicated it had four parts.  I wasn't sure I could remember it, so that night I made sure to ask Janice to stay after class and help me reconstruct the pattern based on notes I had made.

The 'Pretzel' was the perfect name for this pattern.  With the man and woman using both arms, the Pretzel was twisty and convoluted.  It was also dangerous, but I did not know that.  Up to this point, not once had I ever danced the woman's part.  That was a shame.  Had I known the kind of pain men inadvertently subject women to on the dance floor, I would have taught a lot of moves much differently.  In the case of the Pretzel, I did not realize how awkwardly Janice's arms were tangled behind her back.  Indeed, one of the arm contortions resembled a police-style wrestling hold used to immobilize an opponent.  In my ignorance, I lifted Janice's hand behind her back too fast.  Lifting her hand too fast, Janice was unable to straighten her arm.  To my dismay, I wrenched her shoulder badly.  I was horrified when Janice cried out in real pain.  I quickly let go, but the damage was done.  Janice winced as she rotated her bad shoulder and assessed the pain.  I was worried sick.  "Are you okay, Janice?"

"I don't know, Rick.  I feel a bad twinge.  Maybe it will go away."  

As I watched Janie groan in pain, I was very upset.  The thought of hurting this sweet girl evoked waves of guilt.   No doubt Janice regretted sticking around to help.  As they say, no good deed goes unpunished.   Janice rubbed her tender shoulder gingerly for a minute, then tried rotating her arm again.  This time Janice smiled a little.  "Yeah, I think I will be okay.  The pain is subsiding, but you will need to be more careful.  Hey, Rick, guess what?"

"What?"

"I think you Disco-located my shoulder." 

Janice grinned to make sure I knew I got the joke.  Yes, dear, I got it.  haha.  Too bad the joke was on me.  I wasn't in much of a laughing mood.  This was a clear case where my desperation had caused me to take a bold chance that backfired.  Still new to the secrets of Partner Dancing, I had not realized that certain moves could hurt a girl.  However, now that I had actually hurt Janice, I learned my lesson.  From this point on, I made sure to be more cautious when exploring new ground.

Not long after that Peggy, another volunteer, cried out while practicing a new move called Sweetheart with me.  My mistake was holding her hand too tightly as I lifted her arm over her head to reach the other shoulder.  In the process, her wrist became badly twisted.  I did it again, this time slowly and carefully, and discovered the problem.  The man had to briefly open and close his own hand just long enough for the lady to untwist her twist. 

The Pretzel and Sweetheart accidents increased my paranoia.  But at least they happened in private well beyond the vigilant gaze of Lance Stevens.  What would happen if someone got injured during dance class?  I thought of Melissa, the girl who nearly lost her nose to the deadly Pistachio Step.  I knew I was taking terrible chances by constantly gambling on 'New Moves' to save me.  Sooner or later, I would miss a hidden threat.  Or maybe some guy wasn't paying attention to my warning and did exactly what I had told the men not to do.  No doubt news of any injury would get back to Stevens.  If so, end of ballgame.  

But I didn't have a choice, did I?  I had to keep taking risks!  Since my students gobbled up patterns the instant I discovered something new, I was never able to develop any sort of cushion.  I was forced to constantly scrounge in a neverending race to keep One Step Ahead of my best students.  I won't lie, I made mistakes all the time.  Sometimes I would slip up in class and just barely escape with my reputation intact.  However I had one cowardly advantage.  I refused to admit that I didn't know what I was doing.  Since the students knew less than I did, they naturally assumed that any mistake was their fault.

I am not proud to admit how much I relied on that tendency.  As long as I could keep them believing in the infallibility of the dance teacher, I would be okay.  I would do anything to prevent the students from realizing just how little I really knew.  Every week I bluffed my way through another hour.  There was no guarantee the Great Imposter was going to win this race.  Walking a tightrope time and again, I was wracked with constant fear of exposure.  I guess that's the price Imposters have to pay.  Fake it till you Make it.  I believed I would be competent eventually.  But first I had to survive the perils of trial and error.  Would tonight be the night I was exposed?

April 1978 the SURVIVORS

April 1978 THE DEATH DROP

Speaking of Stevens, here we go again.  It was now late April.  To my relief, my One Step Ahead strategy was working.  So far I had succeeded in putting together my two Intermediate-level Partner Dance classes one move at a time without getting caught.  In this way, I expected to survive my second crisis in a row.  But it had not been easy.  One might think I exaggerate the danger of discovery, but I had close calls like the Pistachio Step and the Pretzel all the time.  Skating on thin ice for several months, I took so many chances I was certain that sooner or later I would get get burned.  Sure enough, one night in late April my inexperience resulted in a very serious accident.  And, as usual, Steven's latest demand contributed to my downfall.  No surprise there.   Stevens consistently shoved me way beyond my comfort zone.  With the Peter Principle always in the back of my mind, I was so far past my level of competence that sooner or later I was bound to get burned.  Practically the moment I reached a resting point with the Intermediate class, Stevens demanded I put together a different Advanced class starting in May.  

Stevens did not have much of an imagination.  He used the same rally cry as last month.  "Let's make some money while 'we' can!!" 

'We'?  Here he goes again.  Yes, sir, another new dance class coming up right away.  I love doing all this work while you get rich.

"But Mr. Stevens, why so soon?  Why not wait till June?  That is when my Intermediate class on Wednesday will graduate."

"No, I want to cash in while I can.  Disco is going to be gone tomorrow, I'm sure of it.  I'm not taking any chances.  Your students have shown they are willing to take two different classes per week, so let's do it again.  I want you to be ready in May with an Advanced-level class.  Hit the anvil while it's hot!"

For the third month in a row Stevens had given me all of two weeks to come up with a brand new course.  Fortunately I was not quite as worried this time.  I had already seen it coming.  Burn me once, shame on you, burn me twice, shame on me.  Now that Stevens' bullying tactics had toughened me up, I was already starting to think ahead.  Thanks to my students and their constant nagging for More More More, I had already been thinking about another Advanced class before Stevens said a word.  

But where I would find the material necessary to teach another level?  It was getting harder and harder to find something new.  Fortunately, I had an idea.  Why not try acrobatics?  Here at the Pistachio Club various couples were experimenting with lifts, dips, drops and flips.  Good idea, but I worried about killing someone while I figured it out.  Just when I decided learning acrobatics without a teacher was too dangerous to try, I received yet another lucky break. 

My new friend called himself 'Shark'.  I met Shark at the Pistachio Club one night when I showed up to take the free Happy Hour Disco class.  As usual, Max, the regular teacher, was covering something I had seen before.  The pace of tonight's class was very slow due to a large influx of newcomers, so it was unlikely any new nuggets would be unearthed tonight.  I was bored so I looked around.  That is when I noticed another student who looked just as bored as me.  This guy decided he couldn't take it anymore, so he took his pretty girlfriend off to the side. 

My eyes bulged when I saw him teach her an Acrobatic move, a dip of some sort.  The Dip did not look that tough and it was really impressive.  Even better, by edging closer, I could overhear his suggestions to his girlfriend.  Wow!  I had quite possibly learned my very first Disco Acrobatics move.  I could not wait to try it out back at the studio.  I thought I had seen enough to explain the move to someone like Suzy even though she had never seen it.

Kellie stuck out her tongue at Shark for the stupid nickname, then smiled at me.  I melted on the spot.  Kellie was quite a looker, so I was immediately envious.  However, I kept my attention on the goal.

"Do you have a name for that move you just taught Kellie?" 

"Yeah, man, I call it the 'Death Drop'!  Kellie's my third dance partner.  The first two are in the hospital.  But Kellie doesn't care.  She's fearless!"

When Kellie rolled her eyes for the second time, I realized this was Shark's attempt at humor.  Since Shark didn't seem to mind my questions, I continued.

"Why do you call it the Death Drop."

"Hey, man, you don't want to know."

Hmm.  Maybe he was right.  "Where did you learn that acrobatics move?" 

With obvious pride, Shark replied, "I was a cheerleader at Lamar High School here in Houston."   With a smile and a wink, he added, "The other guys at Lamar were all wimps, so I was the only guy the girls trusted.  That's how I became the designated girl tosser.  I specialized in throwing girls in air.  If they were nice to me, I promised to catch them on the way down.  You would be surprised how nice they were.  So far Kellie's been pretty nice to me too.  That's how I keep my girl's in line." 

You should have seen the dirty look on Kellie's face.  Trying hard not to laugh, I replied, "Well, you certainly know what you are doing.  That Death Drop is spectacular!"

Shark was sucker for praise.  He immediately offered to show me another move. 

"Hey, man, you wanna learn the Death Dip?"

Oh my goodness!  What a break!  However, there were people milling around, so I suggested we go over to 'Janie's Corner', the open spot near the Exit door.  This was the place where Janie had shown me the Aggie Jitterbug, the lucky break that saved my career.  To my delight, Janie's Corner came through for me again. Shark spun Kellie four times, then she tumbled backwards like a fallen tree. Fortunately Shark was there to catch her at the last moment.  Just when I was certain Kellie would hit the floor, she landed with her back resting on Shark's thigh.  The sudden drop was was so unexpected, the illusion suggested Kellie was out of control and surely hurt.  This thrilling move was exactly the sort of things the pros did on those Disco TV shows.  The 'Death Dip' was even better than the Death Drop. 

"Wow!  I love that move!  But why do you name all your moves 'Death' this and 'Death' that?"

With a grin, Shark replied, "That's how I ditch my women when I get tired of them.  After I put them in the hospital, they never want to see me again.  Kellie Belly is the only one to survive so far.  That's how she got to be my girlfriend."  

With that, Kellie righteously kicked Shark in the butt.  I grinned as she put some real steam into it.  When Shark just laughed, I assumed this was their little joke.  Odd relationship.

A born show-off, Shark was definitely having fun.  "Hey, man, you want to see another move?"

My eyes grew big.  "Sure!"

The next move was the highlight of the night.  Shark put Kellie in Cuddles, then rolled her out.  She came spinning back in, then jumped backwards onto his thigh.  The next thing I knew, Kellie was suspended upside down. 

"Damn, Shark, that move is really cool!  What do you call that one, the Leap of Death?"

"No, I call this one the Flying Flip.  This is one of my favorites.  You like it?"

"Yes, that move is incredible."

"Well, good, let me show you how it works."

I said I had to leave soon to teach class, so Shark proceeded to give me a quick lesson.  Kellie even volunteered to try one with me.  To my relief, I aced it on my first try.  Just before I left, I ordered a round of drinks for Shark and Kellie.  They were most appreciative.

"Shark, thank you, you have made my day.  And Kellie, when you become famous for winning your next beauty contest, I will tell everyone what a pleasure it was to hold you upside down!"

Kellie blew a kiss, and with that I took off and raced to the studio.  I arrived several minutes late to teach my 7 pm class, but no one minded.  Since most of my students were single, they were having way too much fun flirting with each other.  Me?  I was high as a kite.  What a lucky break this had been.  Shark had just handed me the keys to my next dance class on a silver platter. 

April 1978, Age 28 THE DRESS CODE

It was time to scout for another move, so one night I headed over to my second home, the Pistachio Club.  Now that Disco Acrobatics had become the latest rage, I saw several couples perform acrobatics when the floor was not too crowded.  Some of these acrobatic moves looked downright dangerous, but others seemed doable.  Thank goodness I had run into Shark on my last visit.  Since I had hit a dead end finding new earth-bound moves for my New Yorker partner dance, teaching Acrobatics was really my only option.  The fact that I saw nothing new to use reinforced that thought.  Thinking ahead, I thought it might be a good idea to practice teaching my acrobatic moves in advance.  I could not risk an accident at Stevens of Hollywood under any circumstance.  Do you remember the Jet Set Club?  Of course you do.  How could you forget?  I decided to use the Jet Set Club for my experiment.  This would be like an 'off-Broadway' rehearsal, you know, maybe learn a few things before introducing these patterns to the crowd at Stevens of Hollywood. 

This turned out to be an enlightened decision.  Teaching at the Jet Set Club had become the bright spot of my week.  Out from under Stevens' thumb, I could actually relax a little.  After surviving the drama surrounding the Gay accusation involving Irving and Lorraine, things at the Jet Set had settled into a nice rhythm.  I was now in my third month of teaching and a group of 25 Jet Set patrons had become Thursday night regulars.  Talk about rabid!  My 25 students told me they lived and died for Thursday nights.  Hmm.  Were they talking about me or their wife-swapping adventures later on?  I decided it was better not to ask.  As usual, I looked around for Karen.  There she was.  I sighed.  Karen was the girl I dreamed about at night.  Then I noticed Kirk at her side.  Back to work.

This turned out to be a very unusual evening even by Jet Set standards.  In retrospect, the entire evening was one long countdown to disaster.  To appreciate the upcoming weirdness, some background is necessary.  I would have never guessed a woman's dress would cause my undoing.  Kevin had explained what he called 'The Dress Code'.  This turned out to be a play on words.  There was a tendency on the part of certain men to grope and paw women without permission.  The whole point of the Wife Swappers Club was to provide a venue for couples to meet other couples with a Jet Set Mind Set.  However single men and women dropped by as well.  For the most part they hung around the bar.  Many of the men liked to sample the wares ahead of time.  Pre-hookup groping was a popular activity.  In particular, men luvved to partner dance.  That is because partner dancing gave the men an excellent opportunity to fondle women they didn't know very well.  In their minds, Disco Dancing and Dirty Dancing were one and the same.  The men would boldly touch the wives and girlfriends of other men from time to time.  The men thought it was funny.  They referred to it as 'getting to know you'.   

What did the women think about this??  They didn't like it.  They used dirty looks and hand-slapping as a deterrent, but it did not do much good.  However, since the women did not make a scene or leave the stage in protest, I decided it was none of my business.  As for me, I kept my hands where they belonged.  So what about this Dress Code?  Women had tricks of their own.  For example, a low cut blouse signaled permission, a shirt without buttons or buttoned to the top did not.  A short skirt invited attention while pants or a long skirt said forget it.  A woman's long skirt would play a major role in the events of the night.

Tonight I would teach Shark's 'Death Drop' for the first time.  "The First Time"... need I say more?  There were several elements that were out of my control.  One factor was the elevated dance floor.  Little did I know that the stage was set (pun intended) for one of the strangest experiences of my life.  Elevated a full foot above the floor, Bernard had raised the stage to make it easier for the spectators to watch the action.  Not only that, there was no railing.  Why block the view?  I thought Bernard was nuts.  Considering half the people were drunk when they danced, someone could easily fall. 

Another feature was the lighting.  The Jet Set was kept extremely dark to encourage discrete groping.  However, they had dedicated lighting for the centrally-located round stage.  The Theater Lighting gave everyone in the club the ability to see what was happening on the stage while keeping the rest of the club dark.  I had noticed this lighting arrangement made the participants feel important.  They were the stars, 'The Show' as DJ Kevin called it.  Meanwhile, anyone seated more than ten feet away was virtually invisible in the gloom.  Spectators seated in the darkness could watch 'The Show' and contentedly fondle their companion at the same time. 

The floor lights stayed on while I taught.  However, when Kevin played the music, he deliberately turned the lights down low.  By plunging the entire club into near-complete darkness, the people on the stage became shadow figures in the murky light.  This made no sense because the crowd could not see the dancing on-stage.  So one night I asked Kevin why he turned down the lights.  Kevin replied he did this under orders.

He said the extreme darkness allowed the dancers to touch each other intimately while they danced without spectators able to know for sure what was going on.  But everyone knew anyway, so what was the point?  Kevin explained that darkness encouraged misbehaving.  And misbehaving led to more drinking.  Kevin was also under orders to play occasional slow dance music.  'Slow Dance' was a code word for 'groping in public on stage'.  It was not unusual to notice a man slow dance with one hand down the woman's skirt or a woman's hand inside his unzipped pants.  I do not exaggerate. 

I was pretty nervous as I took the stage.  Since tonight was my first chance to teach an Acrobatic step, call it fear of the unknown.  In the Death Drop, the woman falls backwards very fast.  Anyone watching invariably gasps because it looks like she is going to hit the back of her head on the floor.  However, once the woman comes to the end of her arms, her progress stops inches from disaster.  The Death Drop was perfect for this group because it was flashy, but not nearly as dangerous as it looked.  Or so I thought.

Since we already know something is certain to go wrong, let me explain ahead of time.  If the man shortens his arms, the woman is safe.  However, if he lets his arms go straight, the woman's head is likely to hit the floor.  Since this was obvious to me from the start, it never occurred to me tell the other men. 

Another problem was a tendency for men to lean forward to see the look on the lady's face as he drops her.  Unfortunately the momentum of the lady's fall invariably pulls the men off balance towards the ball of his feet.  Due to my inexperience, I did not properly explain to the men how to counter-balance the woman by keeping their shoulders erect.  I quickly saw the problem and tried to correct it, but you know how men are.  Some listen, some don't.

Fortunately I did do one thing right.  I warned the men to let the women down slowly.  This proved to be my saving grace because women were bouncing off the floor with alarming regularity.  The reduced speed lessened the impact when the men lost their balance.  The men broke the women's fall for the most part, so the floor contact was more like a bump than a crash.  Thank goodness the ladies were good sports about it. 

Drinking played a large role in the Jet Set classes.  Alcohol had its good points and bad points.  The customers liked to drink to help them loosen up with everyone watching.  For line dancing and freestyle, no problem.  However Acrobatics required concentration to ensure safety.  I was worried because the people who drank were not paying very good attention.  Instead they became noisy and tried to show off for the crowd.  Everybody was a comedian and know-it-all.  Seeing how careless some of the men were, I began to worry a woman might get hurt.  However, what could I do?  The Show must go on. 

The Jet Set dancers loved the Death Drop and so did the crowd.  However, I was secretly chagrined because my students were pretty awful.  Unfortunately, in their alcohol-clouded minds they thought they were awesome and failed to pay attention.  Meanwhile the spectators loved the action more for the comedy than the expertise.  It was terrific entertainment watching people stumble around trying to figure out how this move worked.  And stumble they did. 

DISASTER

To my surprise, it took forever to explain how this move worked.  It did not help that everyone was laughing and cutting up.  Since I had learned this move in 5 minutes, it blew my mind how inept these men were at picking this up.  Finally after 30 minutes of instruction, I decided it was safe to practice the Death Drop to music.  However the floor was far too crowded for all nine couples to try the acrobatic move at the same time.  I solved the problem by saying we would take turns.  I asked four couples to step off the stage and wait nearby while the other five couples went first.  The four couples stood next to the elevated dance floor while I remained on stage to monitor the move.

Kevin stuck to his orders to turn off the Stage Lights, so the stage was shrouded in darkness when the music started.  Once the lights went off, the dance floor became so dark that if someone was drinking at the bar 30 feet away, they could see silhouettes, but not faces.  When the lights went off, the people on stage went temporarily blind for a moment while their eyes adjusted to the near-total darkness.  That contributed to the problem as well.  Once the music started, the five couples began the dance pattern that led to the Death Drop.  More or less simultaneously, the five men dropped their lady partners backwards down to the floor.

Suddenly the club was rocked with a blood-curdling scream straight out of the Psycho shower scene.

"Ooooooh my God, I'm Blind!!!  Oh my God, I can't see anything!  I'm blind, I'm blind, someone help me please, I'm blind!!! 

As if that wasn't enough, an instant later, there was a second blood-curdling scream!  In the darkness, it sounded to me like two women were screaming!  Since both screams took place very close to me, I was scared to death. 

I had no idea what the hell was going on! 

Why is this screaming woman blind?  Who is she?  Where is she?  I yelled to Kevin the DJ to turn the lights back on, but with the loud music playing, he could not hear me holler at him. 

Everyone frantically looked around, but no one knew what had happened and no one could see what happened.  The screaming scared everyone out of their wits because the place was so dark.  Everyone in the room was yelling at Kevin to turn the lights back on, but he was oblivious with his headset on in the enclosed booth.  Kevin remained clueless.  In the gloom Kevin could not see the terror that infected the entire club.  And so the screaming of both women continued in the darkness to musical accompaniment.

Whatever the problem was, it was taking place close by, five to ten feet away.  I looked around frantically, but there were ten people on the floor blocking my vision and it was ridiculously dark.  Try as I might, I could not figure out the problem.  The horror-movie screams lasted for 10-15 seconds, then tapered off.  The blind woman continued to wail, but it became more like a moan from an injured person. 

"Oh, someone help me, please!  I can't see!  I'm blind!"

There was considerable chaos and pandemonium.  Was there some sort of madman in our midst who was hurting these women?  Suddenly lots of people were screaming simply out of fear.  Judging by the shouts of frightened spectators, Jack the Ripper must be loose somewhere inside the dark club.  Full of fear, a surge of people began running for the Exit Door, the best source of light in the room. 

Since I was one of the few sober people in the building, I tried to figure out the problem.  Now that my eyes had sufficiently adjusted to the gloom caused by the stage lights being turned off, I looked down and noticed a body lying on the other side of the dance floor.  It had to be a woman because I could see bare legs.  This had to be the source of the screams.  What was she doing down there?  Did someone stab her or hit her in the head??  Uh oh, I thought, more likely someone had dropped this woman on her head!  I could barely see a thing, so I ran ten feet and dropped to my knees beside the woman. 

To my shock, I could not find a face.  Where is this woman's face!?!  Cursing the dark, I had no choice but to use my hand to trace along the side of the woman's body from her legs on up.  That is how I discovered there was dress covering the woman's face.  Assuming this dress belonged to the fallen woman, I frantically tugged at the dress.  However, in the darkness I could not seem to figure out which direction to pull.  Pulling on this dress turned out to be a big mistake.  From above, the real owner of that dress screamed at me. 

"Goddamn it!  Whoever the fuck you are, get your goddamn hands out of my dress!!!"

Hearing this, the woman with no face began to plead for help again.  "Help me, I'm blind!" 

Suddenly I figured it out.  Oh my God, I am pulling on the wrong dress!   The dress of the standing woman was covering the fallen woman's face.  Things happened fast.  The standing woman was upset for two reasons, the screaming of the fallen woman and me tugging on her dress.  She lunged desperately to get away.  However, her sudden movement caused my grip on the standing woman's dress to tighten.  Believe it or not, I was pulled right on top of the fallen woman before I could let go.  Oh shit.  

Once the long black dress was ripped out of my hand, the fallen woman's face was uncovered for the first time.  Lying on top of her, I was eye to eye with the fallen woman's face in the darkness.  Seeing my face and realizing I was on top her of her, now the fallen woman yelled at me.  "Get off of me, goddamn it, get off me!!"

Then she suddenly realized her vision was back.  "Oh my God, I can see!  Oh, Thank God!"  

Meanwhile, someone had gone to the DJ booth to tell Kevin to flip the lights back on.  At the worst possible moment, the lights were restored just in time for people to see me scrambling to get off the fallen woman.  Sure enough, the moment the lights came on, the entire room saw me down on the floor just as I began moving away from the helpless woman.  At first glance, the entire room assumed I had been caught in the act.  Seeing the disturbed looks on their faces, I thought, "Uh oh, this could be trouble..."

Sure enough, based on my position and the fallen woman's demand for me to get off her, it seemed obvious that I was guilty of molesting her.  Why else would she scream bloody murder?  Only one problem... their eyes had not adjusted to the bright light which had just returned, so they weren't quite sure what they had seen.  Nevertheless, every eye in the room was riveted.  Caught in the act!!!! 

What in hell is the dance teacher doing on top of that woman in the dark!?!  Why are they on the floor together?

Hearing the entire crowd gasp, I paled.  These people could easily jump to the wrong conclusion.   

I jumped up as fast as I could.  Everyone must think these two women had been screaming because I had attacked the hurt woman in the dark.  First I was gay, now I was a sex offender.  Or maybe I was Jack the Ripper.  Or maybe all three.  Ignoring the suspicion, I reached down and helped the poor woman back to her feet.  We were alone on the stage with the whole room staring in shock and disbelief.  Someone had hurt that woman and I was the obvious suspect.  When I saw those angry faces, for a moment I thought I was going to be lynched.  Fortunately, everyone was still in shock, so no one moved.  That gave the fallen woman enough time to come to her senses.

For the first time, I recognized Shannon, one of my favorites.  Now she recognized me too.  In a flash, Shannon realized I had been down there trying to help her.  Shannon swiftly wrapped me up in a passionate bear hug.  Squeezing me tight with both arms, Shannon kissed me on my cheek, then proclaimed for everyone to hear, "Oh, Rick, thank you so much for saving me!  I was really scared!"

When the crowd heard Shannon absolve me, everyone was incredulous.  I have never seen so many bewildered people in all my life.  You had to see it to believe it.  Lickety-split, I had gone from axe murderer to pervert to hero.  Shannon began to cry and laugh hysterically at the same time.  I felt so sorry for her.  Realizing Shannon was drunk out of her mind and quite possibly hurt, I carefully moved her to a nearby seat, then sat next to her.  Once the people nearby saw Shannon was okay, they guessed that she had fallen and that I had probably fallen as well trying to help her up.  They relaxed and I was off the hook.  Now everyone was curious to know what had happened.

As I sat holding Shannon's hand, the woman with the long black dress came over and demanded to know what was going on.  Hearing the accusation in her voice, I groaned.  Her name was Lori.  She was really mad because she thought I had been on the floor doing something naughty under her dress.  The moment I saw the length of her dress in the light, I figured it out.  Lori's dress had somehow covered Shannon's face when she fell to the floor.  Unfortunately, Lori was so drunk and confused, nothing I said made a bit of sense to her.   It took Lori forever to catch on.  When she finally figured it out, the expression on her face was so puzzled that I had to laugh. 

Due to the darkness, I cannot be absolutely sure what happened, but I can make an educated guess.  Three people had been involved... Shannon, her dance partner Philip, and Lori, the Long Cool Woman with the black dress.  All three were quite drunk and the extreme darkness had done the rest. 

The problem started when Philip stumbled as he dropped Shannon to the floor.  Or maybe he let her go the end of his arms.  Or both.  Philip was so drunk, he had not paid much attention during class.  I doubt Philip did a single thing to break Shannon's fall.  Certain that Philip had failed to 'counter-balance' Shannon, the woman had fallen hard. 

Shannon's rapid plummet caused the back of her head to bounce hard off the stage floor, stunning her badly and forcing her to let of Philip's hands.  Drunk as she was, I suspect Shannon briefly blacked out.  When Shannon regained consciousness, she instinctively grabbed her head in agony.  Writhing in pain, I assume she twisted sideways and somehow got her head tangled underneath  Lori's floor-length black dress.  With her face hidden, Shannon's world turned pitch black.  Drunk and knocked senseless, Shannon believed she was blind.  That is when she began screaming in the dark. 

Lori was oblivious.  Standing there in the dark, she and her partner were waiting for their turn to dance.  In the dark, apparently neither one saw Shannon fall.  Nor did Lori realize Shannon's face had become hidden underneath her dress.  Writhing in pain and blind with that giant dress covering her face, Shannon was totally disoriented.  All she could was scream frantically for help.  Compounding the silliness, Lori had no idea the screaming was coming from under her own dress.  Lori just stood there and screamed too.  With two women screaming at the same time, they not only scared each other, they terrified the entire darkened room.  It was a comedy of errors. 

Philip did not help things.  He was so drunk he did not realize his own partner was the woman screaming about her blindness.  When Philip heard the screams in the dark, he got scared and ran off the floor.  What a prince.  Once the lights returned, Philip came over to reclaim his injured lady.  How noble.  Philip and Shannon crawled off in search of a secluded booth.  The way Shannon rubbed the back of her head, I felt really sorry for her.  She was going to have one heck of a headache.  They were both crimson red at all the attention, but calmed down once they reached a booth.  After sobering up enough to walk, they quietly slunk out of the building.  I never saw them again at the Jet Set.  I suspect they were too embarrassed to return.

aftermath