by Peter Pachecos

Created on: February 11, 2009

A Tribute to the Unknown Dancer

He's the fellow who was dragged practically kicking and screaming into dance class.

This, despite the fact he desperately yearned to be a good dancer, driven as he was by TV images of couples weaving down a dance floor with effortless ease and, yes, to the applause and admiration of everyone.

With a gigantic effort of will, he summoned the courage to enquire about lessons and, over the advice (and ridicule) of friends, signed up for a series of group sessions.

Throughout the day he mentally psyched himself up to muster the courage to even pass through the doors of the community hall where the lessons were to be held. The idea of getting lost on the way appealed to him. After all, he tried, didn't he? It wouldn't have been his fault if he accidentally took the wrong turn..would it? Attractive though the suggestion was, he chased it out of his mind repeatedly even as he drove into the parking lot. He slouched up the stairs and led by voices, laughter and music came up to a lady behind a desk who gave him a welcoming smile. This made it a little easier to cover the last remaining couple of metres and enter a defining moment in his life. His mind a mass of conflicting ideas, he barely heard the lady's voice as she spoke to him. Mechanically, he affixed his signature ast the bottom of a form the lady handed him as she chattered in practised monotone about the rules governing group lessons.

On entering the hall, he was a overwhelmed by the size of the crowd. He fought the momentary panic and fled to an empty corner, hoping he hadn't been noticed. From this vantage point, he took stock. He quickly recognized the instructor; she wore a microphone set as she talked animatedly with a group of people. They obviously knew each other. This added to his feeling of insecurity.

As the class began, the instructor seemed friendly enough. To him at least, though, her disdain for the ability of men (any man) to ever learn to dance was obvious. Putting down men, regarding them as idiots at best, was a national past-time. Subsequent remarks by the instructor confirmed that she fully subscribed to this mentality. ("I'll say this again so you men will understand," was one of her favourite remarks. It was said in jest, of course, and always drew laughter).

She had the students line up on opposite sides of the room, men on one side, ladies on the other. In this strange and seemingly hostile world, the last thing he ever wanted to do was look clumsy and awkward.

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