I was nervous coming here tonight — generally I only slug shots before marathon porn shoots and ultimate-fighting bouts. In eighth grade, I had the Roger Rabbit down cold, but since then my rug-cutting endeavors have been reduced to tasteless public pony rides and ass grabs in Theatre District night clubs. Earlier tonight, Hibarger told us that he thought shows like So You Think You Can Dance would motivate people to engage more — and to some point it did — but for the most part, he feels that, these days, Americans prefer their couches to parquet. My lazy side understands that, but it bugs me more than kids who choose NBA Live over shooting hoops. My advice to men: grab the dame in the next cubicle and head down to St. Mary's. Some folks might not recommend swinging with your co-workers, but it worked out swell for us. I just hope that Sara has a good podiatrist.
Boston Swing Central isn't the only Lindy Hop game in town. It's All Swing! offers regular classes at the Watertown VFW; the Boston Swing Dance Network puts on monthly dances at the St. James Armenian Church; there's Hop to the Beat Dance Studio; the MIT Lindy Hop Society; the Lindy Hop meet-up group Blues Cafû. For a relatively off-the-radar art form, Lindy Hop has got it going on in Beantown.
I should definitely take advantage of this array of lessons and dancing opportunities. I never thought I'd say this, but I need to learn how to be a follower; at least, if I ever want to dance with anyone without appearing as though I'm just swaying to the beat while I give someone a bear hug. Besides being reluctant to relinquish control, the hardest part of Lindy Hop for a thoroughly stubborn woman like myself is that I can't let my feet do their thing without staring down at them while methodically plotting my next step.
I hate to admit it, but my dancing prowess is greatly enhanced when Hibarger cuts in on me and a fellow first-timer, takes me by the hand, and takes over. The next thing I know, he's whisking me around the dance floor and I'm moving my feet in foreign patterns, as naturally as though I've been dancing like this for years. He tells me that a good leader is one that can silently guide a follower through a dance, without her having to do anything but enjoy herself. (Are you taking notes, President Obama?) The undertones are a little creepy but, suddenly, I get it. Where dancing is concerned, it's good to be a follower. Unless your leader reeks of tequila and is still rockin' that damned ball cap.
Chris is still drunk and Sara's feet still hurt. They can be reached at cfaraone@phx.com and salterman@phx.com, respectively.
