After I moved to Houston in the summer of 2001, I occasionally talked about taking dance lessons. For about a year, I couldn't decide which dances to learn. I had a vision in my mind of Patrick Swayze, Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly, and Buddy Ebsen sizing up my skills at Latin, Ballroom, and Appalachian dance styles.
"Son, you better find something else to do," Patrick would say as he twirled his latest hot blond partner across the floor. "Just find one of my namesake studios and learn to dance with broomsticks and coatracks," Fred would say. "Your imagination is your best guide," Gene would admonish me. "Look at all those animated partners I danced with, and I never saw them until the movies were finished."
Buddy was quiet most of the time. I guess he was still a bit rankled over losing the part in that Oz movie to Ray Bolger, but as life would have it, Ray went on to make Dr. Pepper commercials and Buddy went on to make a lot of television shows.
Truth be told, there seemed no dance style I felt comfortable taking on. I had learned square dancing twice. The first time was in the fourth grade, when I was partnered off with Cathy Hutto, the girl of my 9-year-old dreams (in retrospect, I realize she liked me too, but boys are so clueless about those things). I spent a fair amount of time watching Cathy dance and trying to figure out where I got lost.
The second time I learned square dancing was in college. I was the only man on campus brave enough to take the class. So, there I was, surrounded by 30 girls. Before the teacher could say, "Grab a partner, ladies!", one of the most stunningly beautiful girls in the class came running across the room to take hold of my arm. I swear, a riot almost broke out at that very moment. Nonetheless, I only took the class for Physical Education credit, and I did not put my hard-won dance skills to use.
Country dancing is very popular in Houston. In my limited exposure to Houston Country Dancing, people mostly do the line dances or Two Step. Two Step can be a pretty dance, like all of them, if done right. But I just didn't feel comfortable wearing a big belt buckle, boots, and a cowboy hat. I wasn't a John Travolta wannabe in the least, so Disco dancing was out, too. That pretty much left Square Dancing/Clogging (grouped together mostly by the clothing styles preferred by dancers), Hip Hop, Ballroom, and Latin.
Now, my idea of Ballroom dancing is very elegant: men wear long tails and high hats and they gracefully guide their ladies across the floor in a Fred Astaire-like haze of magic and music. The real thing can be very close to that, but you haven't lived until you've seen a pot-bellied man in blue jeans whirl around the floor in a Viennese Waltz.
To be honest, I wasn't yet ready to live that
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much. And I felt I would be out of place in a Hip Hop club, although I love many of the moves that come from the R-n-B dance styles. So, in the end, I decided to follow Patrick Swayze into the Latin dancing halls of adventure.
Houston has plenty of dance teachers and studios, but still somewhat new to the area, I had trouble figuring out where they were. It seems that nearly all the studios have at least one teacher who does Latin. Many of the teachers know a variety of styles. But I had much to learn about dancing in general.
So I sent an email to a randomly selected teacher. I explained where I lived and what I thought I was looking for (Salsa, Merengue, Cha Cha). She soon replied, implying very nicely that perhaps I might buy a map of Houston, as she had forwarded my request to Gloria Jones, who taught in my vicinity. I joined Gloria's Beginning Salsa/Merengue Class in October 2002.
I didn't tell many people what I was doing. I secretly harbored this illusion of girls screaming and fighting to dance with me like in college (did I mention I once danced with an entire sorority?). I was just a little bit unsure of whether fantasy ran the same road as reality. But I learned soon enough that I was no Patrick Swayze.
That first day in class, there were precisely three students: me, some young guy, and his cute young girlfriend. She sort of knew how to dance. He was nearly as inept as me. Gloria asked a couple of her Intermediate students to stay and help the class. Sari, who partnered with me, was -- well, let me be blunt. She is absolutely beautiful. I could barely pay attention to what the teacher was saying. After about ten minutes, I knew I would be taking private lessons.
And that was how my adventures in Salsa dancing began. I felt like the worst dance student ever to join a Salsa class. Gloria suggested I might want to take the Beginner class again in November (it ran for six weeks). And in December she suggested maybe another round of Beginning Salsa in January would be helpful, too.
Now, was I REALLY that bad? Um, yes. I was. Most men are, in fact, very bad dancers. We have no rhythm, and we don't know how to lead. So, there I was, trying to learn the steps, trying to develop some rhythm (and timing), trying to learn how to lead. Those weekly private lessons with Gloria were crucial. She helped me understand so many things that Patrick, Fred, Gene, and Buddy had neglected to mention. And the way Gloria moves across the floor is mesmerizing. I wasn't the only man who missed a few steps when she demonstrated a quick and graceful move.
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