A Diva moment

“I can’t do it.”
“It’s easy. You’ve got this.”
(I’m thinking bullshit.)
“Seriously, I can’t feel it.”
The pace is plodding. The footwork too slow.
I feel like the product of a Holstein knocked up by Frankenstein.
And my Diva moment is complete.
I have refused to dance the West Coast swing to the music she picked.
Usually, I am the guy who goes with the flow; I’m the one who is accommodating.
(ThommyG Does What You Want.)
Pliable.
Then I thought about it. I’m putting in more than 100 hours of my time to do this. The soundtrack of my life runs on Social Distortion, McClusky, Dinosaur Jr. and Anti-Flag.
I am energetic. Outdoorsman. Forward motion.
“I’m sorry, I just cannot dance to this music. I don’t feel it.”
My partner brought over the instructor. We listened to the original piece. We listened to two others.
“This one’s faster.”
“It is, but I hate the song.”
(How’s that for being a Diva?)
“If he can’t feel it, and he doesn’t like it, he can’t dance to it.”
We listened to a CD I brought. OK, the Reverend Horton Heat song – my choice – was way too fast (but could you just imagine the crowd swinging to my buddy Jim Heath?)
Finally, we settled on a song by Cherry Poppin' Daddies.
“The moves are going to be a lot faster,” my partner said.
My point.
We got through the original choreography in a minute, 19. We added two more moves. We’re at a minute 30.
And it’s fast.
And satisfying.
And I can do it.
And it looks gooooooood.

1 comments:

TheRobRogers said...

It's all about the right music. So I guess your Diva momemt is excused.