Yesterday I mentioned my dancing days of yore and if you missed that post well you didn’t miss much, I was just filling up air time so to speak. I don’t know what I’d blog about if I didn’t have the kids.
My long time childhood friend L and I were dancing divas all through elementary school and parts of junior high. I’m not saying we were great..wait..I’m not saying I was great cause, I wasn’t. The many years of tap, ballet, and jazz did absolutely nothing for my coordination or flexibility. Oh how my mother prayed and all that money wasted. She probably knew that there was no hope for me in an organized sport so dance was all I had.
Despite my dis-coordination, I really enjoyed tap, so I talked L into doing a private tap dance class and I would do jazz with her. So it was just the two of us in this tap class. We really liked it or I did.. and we learned so much with our private lessons…ahem
We started this class sometime in late November and were barely getting one particular routine down, when our instructor dropped the bomb on us that we were doing a last minute recital at the mall for Christmas. She wanted us to learn a new Christmas routine. We literally only had like two-three weeks to learn it for the performance. L and I weren’t too worried about it, after all we’ve been doing this for years. We were what you call amatuer professionals.
Somehow someone (probably me) got this wild and crazy idea that my mother could whip us up a cute elf costume for the recital. Cute.. not really. My dear mother, as busy as she was, sewed us up an elf costume out of felt. We looked like giant red fire trucks with our boxy out fits and elf hat with tinsel fringe on our heads. Somehow at that time we still thought we looked cute even at age 14-15. Our outfit ensemble was again the least of our worries. No I won’t post a picture of the incriminating fashion evidence. I cherish my friendship with L to much.
We get to the mall and it had to have been the Friday night before Christmas because it was way busier than normal for a Friday night. L and I are one of the first to perform. We had our dance down pat. I totally forget what Christmas song it was, something tells me it was Rockin Around The Christmas Tree, but I could be totally wrong. The music began and a large crowd gathered.
We begin our shuffle hop steps and suddenly I begin to slip, like feet falling out from under me kind of slip. I immediately grab onto L as I surely wasn’t going to humiliate myself by falling on my butt in front of a gazillion people. Luckily she’s able to keep me hoisted up; she’s a good friend like that. She probably knew that if I was going down she was going down with me. In my head I’m telling my self, “Show must go on.” I step back into place only to start slipping again. By this time L and I are holding on to dear life to each other as she’s slipping as well. We probably looked like a four legged fire hydrant just struggling to stay upright.
I honestly did not think the song was ever going to end. We repeatedly would begin the same step over and over only to begin slipping again. When the song did finally end we both ran crying to bathroom. L decided she was never going to ever leave the bathroom due to the humiliation. I think she’s still in there to this day..just kidding L.
Everyone felt bad for us and knew it wasn’t “us” though true we..I.. am not very coordinated, I’m not exactly that horrible where I can’t even stand on my two feet, at least I don’t think so. The floors in the mall must have been waxed to the Nth degree causing our slippage. L’s mom took us immediately to the shoe store and got us non-slip stick thingy’s for our shoes. I think ice cream and chocolate was also involved to help us console our wounds.
Nothing like ending your dance career on a slipped note.