As I’m sure you’ve all noticed, it’s been quite a while since my last posting. If you’re wondering why, I will answer absolutely no questions and what I was doing will forever remain a mystery for you to ponder moodily at coffee shops on rainy days. That’s right. Go get a fedora, an overcoat, and a five ‘o’ clock shadow. If you so desire, I do give lessons on brow-furrowing. Believe me, it’s worth the fifty dollars.
Of course, if you’re going to nag, I can tell you just a wee tidbit.
Don’t get cocky now. I won’t tell you much.
…Okay, fine. Sheesh!
Alex and I might have sort of become professional dancers.
How? Well, it wasn’t exactly a plan, per say. When you’re born to be a dancer, you just know. The music starts, you start flailing, loose articles of clothing start flying off in various directions, and you feel the eyes of every concertgoer slide toward you. It is your moment. You are shining. Your sunglasses fall to your chin, and you feel your arm begin to dislocate.
In other words, Alex and I decided to spontaneously attend a concert.
Of course, the rockin’ band, Davina and the Vagabonds (http://www.facebook.com/Davinaandthevagabonds) was certainly a big part of why the day was such a success. Try listening to that music without wiggling. I dare you. I DARE YOU.
Really, though, the second Alex and I got to that concert we were swing dancing in our minds. You could just feel the sassy in that music. Besides, we weren’t the only ones feeling swingy. At least four old couples were shakin’ it like orange juice. Okay, maybe only like the no-pulp kind. But they had swank, let me tell you.
Judging by our background in elderlyness, one would think that Alex and I would fit right in with this crowd. Perhaps we’d take slower, shakier steps than these young’uns, but we would certainly be able to handle ourselves. I mean, just look at our knitting.
HAH! What a cute idea.
The second we heard the first chord of our favorite Vagabond song, Alex and I completely lost control of our bodies. I’m not joking. One moment, we were sitting on a bench, watching the band and twisting our shoulders in anticipation. The next—well…
We went crazy.
It’s hard for me to remember details about this particular moment in my life. I’ve heard that artists produce their most brilliant work outside of time, with no knowledge of themselves or of the world around them. The work, the beauty, is all that exists in their universe.
I now know that to be true.
I can vaguely remember a sandal flying off in some direction, along with a disgusted gasp from across the lawn. I definitely cracked my elbow. Alex might have hit me in the gut. My hair covered my face—was I headbanging? Arms windmilled around me and my legs twisted in opposite directions. Alex remained on her tiptoes for the duration for the song. What was happening? Was that grass I just saw? Grass exists? Did I accidentally kick that lady? What were people? What was humanity? I—
And as suddenly as it began, it was over.
Alex and I caught our breath.
You could just see the confusion on everyone’s face. The crowd stared at us. What are you?
I could have explained. I could have told them about our secret yearning to live in the 1920s, our deep appreciation of cartoon culture, our top-notch baking/dance sessions, or the fact that we were the same person. But none of that would have fully explained what they had just seen.
Shockingly, a man offered Alex a swing dance lesson. Hadn’t he just seen that we were masters? But Alex, being the gracious Mexican walking fish that she is, nobly accepted. As it turns out, the man knew all about the swing dancing scene and told us everything we would need to know.
Alex and I now dance every Monday night.
I understand that this post may be discouraging to some of you. After all, you will never be as swingtastic as we are. But do not despair! I have here 10%-Hilarity-approved dance instructions for you amateurs. Be careful where you whip these moves out, though—jealousy can be painful.
And thus, world, I bid you goodnight.