MYSTERY OF THE TEXAS TWOSTEP

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN:

FRIGHT NIGHT

Written by Rick Archer 

LIMBO MONTH TWO Monday, NOVEMBER 26, 1979 do or die

What would Harry Houdini do in a tough situation like this? 

Use deception! 

With my entire class watching, my biggest fear was that everyone would immediately realize how weak my skills were.  My partner would be the first to know.  I could not fool a woman whose experience revealed what it felt like to be in the arms of a good Western dancer.  That is why I had brushed Lynette off when she asked me to dance.  No, I needed someone the opposite of Lynette.  Without warning, I bolted from the waiting lynch mob and boldly walked to a table ten feet away. 

"Come on, Sally, let's dance!"

Before she knew what hit her, I pulled Sally out of her chair and dragged her onto the floor

Sally was the sweetest, most sympathetic woman in my dance class.  There was no way Sally was part of the cabal.  Age 50, Sally thought I could do no wrong.  She trusted me.  Two weeks ago I had stayed 30 minutes after class trying to bring Sally and her friend Susan up to speed on the difficult Polka.  Susan was a lost cause, but Sally had a fighting chance to catch on.  She had been grateful for the extra attention.

For the crime of slowing down last week's class, Sally and Susan had received sharp criticism from Dave.  His harsh words had chased off Susan, but not Sally.  Sally had been brave enough to return tonight after last week's ordeal.  Dave was not the only class member who resented Sally' presence.  In contrast to the talented former Disco dancers, Sally was a true beginner.  She was also something of a klutz.  Recognizing it was difficult for Sally to keep up with the learning pace of my superstar dancers, I made sure to keep the wolves at bay by making her my full-time partner.  Nothing was said, but Sally understood.  Realizing I was shielding her from further harassment, Sally had been warm during class.  To tell the truth, I suspected a crush.  That made Sally the perfect choice.  I had protected Sally in dance class, now she was going to protect me from the lynch mob. 

I needed Sally's uncritical devotion in the worst way.  She was always apologizing for whatever mistake she made.  I told her that beginners are supposed to make mistakes, so quit worrying and try again.  Now, however, I saw a hidden blessing in her insecurity.  If something went wrong, I wanted a woman who would blame herself, not me.  I had chosen well.  This slender, white-haired lady was the only person I felt safe with.  Of course Sally had no idea of the Conspiracy.  She knew something was up, but not the details.  Nor did she have the most remote clue why I had picked her at this crucial moment in my life.  Indeed, Sally was thrilled to receive the honor of the first dance.  I smiled grimly.  If Sally only knew!

As we approached the floor, I was unsure whether it was a Polka or a Twostep.  I was taking a real chance.  If it turned out to be a Twostep and people saw me dancing the Polka, this could be the end right here.  On the spur of the moment, I stopped to double-check the dancers' footwork.  No one had taught me this trick, but it occurred to me right off the bat.  Everyone seemed to be dancing a Polka.  I looked over my shoulder.  Sure enough, the entire class had moved to the railing for a better view.  What was I going to do? 

The crowded floor gave me an inspired idea... go to the Center!  I decided to play a trick on my skeptics.  Why not hide in plain sight?  If anyone asked, I would claim I was sparing Sally, a first-time dancer, from embarrassment if she made a mistake.

Western dancing moves in a counter-clockwise circle.  Like a racetrack, there is usually plenty of room in the middle.  As dancers swirled around us, I led Sally to the center of the floor.  Based on the fear I felt, I called it the Eye of the Hurricane.  Using the dancers orbiting around us as human shields, I began to stumble around.  Sure enough, my dancing was stiff and mechanical as first-time jitters struck.  But we were moving!!  That was all that mattered.  At first I accidentally did the hopping motion Glen had taught me to the German Polka, but managed to catch myself before the Jury noticed.  Sally looked at me funny, but said nothing.  Once I got rid of the hop, to my vast relief, my German Polka seemed pretty close to what the other men were doing. 

To my shock, we were moving around the floor just like everyone else.  I won't say we were graceful or superior, but we didn't look foolish.  Sally was all smiles as we trotted around the floor.  I doubt I was remotely near the beat, but Sally didn't seem to care.  She didn't know where the beat was either.  All I cared about was that my students would never know.  I could see them craning their heads.  Let them look.  I could barely see them, so that meant they could barely see me.

Excellent!  We remained hidden in the center of the circle protected by a stream of dancers.  The best my students could do was get a fleeting glimpse.  Thanks to all the camouflage, there was no way the Jury could evaluate my timing, footwork, or the quality of my patterns.  I smiled with contentment.  This was a very good start.  Thanks to the Eye of the Hurricane, I might just pull this off. 

The song was over and Sally gave me a huge hug.  She was excited to do so well on her first dance at a Western club.  Me too.  The important thing was that we had pulled it off.  Just then a song came on.  It sounded like a Twostep.  I was on a roll, so why not give it a try?  Still using the center of the floor to disguise my mistakes, I tried the Foxtrot patterns Glen had taught me.  To my immense relief, these moves worked fairly well.  Or at least they seemed to.  I said a silent prayer to Joanne for sharing her invaluable secret.  Joanne had been right all along about that 'slow slow quick quick' rhythm.  In a manner similar to Ali Baba's "Open Sesame!", that phrase had been the clue I needed to link Twostep to Foxtrot in the first place.  In so doing, Joanne had saved my career.  God Bless Joanne. 

Huge waves of relief swept over me.  Knowing how badly my initial training with Joanne had gone, I could not believe I had made it this far.  Here in the clutch, these crazy moves Joanne and I had invented seemed to be working.  Amazing.  Furthermore, Glen's knowledge of German Polka and Foxtrot had proved invaluable.  I noticed my new friend Sally beam at me throughout the song.  Good grief.  Sally had no idea the service she was providing.  We stumbled mightily on several occasions, but Sally would never dream it was my fault.  Her admiration blinded her to my rookie mistakes.  She even blamed herself when I stepped on her foot.  I silently thanked this gentle woman for her kindness.  Sally's smile gave me a sorely needed shot of courage.  Thank goodness.

DANCE MARATHON

As far as Fright Night was concerned, so far so good.  I could hardly believe it.  So far every one of my blind man hunches about Western dancing had proven correct (except for the Waltz of course).  Having survived a very tight spot, I definitely had the nine lives of a cat.  How many were left?  Probably none, but hopefully I was safe now.  Or maybe not.  Perhaps the rest of the evening would bring more terror.  I nervously scanned the crowd to see how my critics were responding.

The Jury was still standing there at the railing.  Thumbs up or thumbs down?  Well, none of the men had come to drag me off the floor and string me up.  However, as Sally and I began to leave the floor, I noticed several women in the group were lining up to dance the next song with me.  Ordinarily that was a good sign, but not tonight.  A warning flashed in my mind.  What if one of these women was in on the assassination plot?  Was I ready to dance with the pros yet?  I had passed my first test, but I could still make a fatal mistake.  I noticed the lineup included Lynette who was a heck of a dancer.  She and I had danced Disco together many times.  Ordinarily Lynette was not aggressive about asking me to dance, but she was insistent tonight.  I was suspicious of her motives, so I decided to brush Lynette off again.  If anyone was in a position to compare my dancing to the other men here at Cowboy, that would be Lynette.  One mistake with her might bring down the curtain on Fright Night.

I noticed Mona and Devin watching me like a hawk.  They were right at the railing, the closest spot to the dance floor.  Their crossed arms and pursed lips made it clear they were not happy.  I don't think they appreciated my human shield trick.  Dave was equally distrusting.  His hands formed a skeptical steeple as he peered intently.  No, I wasn't not out of the woods, not with these guys watching.  Fairly certain they were not convinced, I made a snap decision to play it safe.  Why not just stick with Sally?  No dancing with experienced ladies, at least not yet.

So I hooked Sally's arm into mine, made a U-turn and dragged her back to the center of the floor for the next song.  My cowardice did not cost me any pride at all.  I was in this game to survive.  Now that I dearly wanted to be a Western teacher, I wasn't taking any chances.  Besides, I was hardly the first man to ever hide behind a woman's skirts.  As long as I danced with Sally, I was safe. 

Returning to the middle, we continued to dance the Inner Circle around the floor.  I noticed Dave and Sylvia had joined the dance floor, probably to get a closer look.  I could have cared less when the two of them gave me a dirty glance as they passed by.  I grinned to myself.  The floor was so crowded, at best Dave could only get a glimpse.  As for the women waiting to dance with me, I wasn't leaving the security of Sally's arms for anything.  The Jury may have guessed what I was doing, but what could they do about it?   Perhaps my curious behavior reinforced their suspicion, but who cares?  All I needed was 'Reasonable Doubt'.  With Sally as my bodyguard, I had disguised the truth this far.  A dance teacher is supposed to dance.  Well, that is what I was doing.  As for the quality of my dancing, maybe not so hot, but my footwork was too well disguised to know for sure.  As long as I stayed out on the floor, my dance career was safe.  Even if someone suspected the true reason why I danced one song after another with this sweet lady, they could not prove a thing. 

Meanwhile I was improving by leaps and bounds.  With every additional lap, I was starting to get the hang of it.  There is a phenomenon in the dance world known as 'muscle memory'.  Prior to Sally, I had none.  Previously I had danced in class using my analytical brain to tell me what to do.  Since I was always counting the steps in my head, my dancing was stiff and mechanical.  That is probably one of the things my students had picked up on.  However, I was so drunk from four beers that my analytical side was barely functioning.  This proved to be something of a blessing.  Stripped of my inhibiting self-consciousness, my dance instincts were finally liberated.  Instead of constantly thinking about every step, I relaxed.  Now that I didn't think about my feet anymore, my dancing became more fluid. 

In fact, I was beginning to enjoy myself.  Now that I had the hang of it, this style of dancing was kind of fun.  It wasn't Disco, but it had its charms.  In particular, I enjoyed the sensation of holding this nice woman in my arms.  This was one feeling I never had with Disco.  Disco partner dancing is mostly done apart.  Although the man occasionally brings the woman into his arms, the music is so fast that she rarely stays there but for a moment.  The feeling I got from holding Sally to this slow-paced music was completely new.  Western dancing wasn't exciting, but it was definitely more romantic.  Hmm.  Maybe 'romantic' was not the right word.  How shall I put it?  Let's just say it was sexy to hold Sally close.  Was it my imagination or was I getting a little turned on?

Round and round the floor we went.  The club was beautiful, the girls were pretty, and my narrow escape put me in a very good mood.  Perhaps the copious amounts of beer deserved credit as well.  Best of all, I had a friend.  Sally was my savior.  Her smile was chasing my lonesome blues away.  What a relief it was to feel attractive again!  Suddenly I laughed out loud.  Not only was I having fun, I could not believe I had actually gotten away with the scam of my life!  

My night of discovery did not stop there.  As I warmed up to Western dancing, I felt many of my nasty prejudices melt away.  Western dancing wasn't so bad after all.  The phrase 'Try it, you might like it' seemed appropriate.  I noticed my dancing was improving rapidly.  As well it should!  After all, I was a terrific Disco dancer.  Now that I had finally gotten some much-needed practice, my years of Disco dancing allowed me to catch on to this simpler form of dancing quickly.  But it was my change in attitude that made the biggest difference.  I was no longer fighting Country.  Encouraged by tonight's success, I embraced C&W dancing for the very first time.  From this point on, every single trip around the floor was a victory lap.  I was safe.  I was out of the woods.  The Jury couldn't touch me.