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Last night was one of those rare occasions in which I actually decided to spend a Saturday night outside of the apartment and amongst the common folk. I was invited to see a housemate of my friend play at the iconic Austin bar, A Hole In The Wall. He played a 7 pm show, which was way too early to expect a decent crowd in a bar, but with the help of friends we had a fair-sized group in attendance for support. He proceeded to belt out a few good folksy tunes and some laughs in between. I was told later on that I was one of the few people who actually got his jokes; they were obvious to me, though. I’ve been told by people that I laugh at the strangest things, which I suppose is just as well.

However the highlight of the evening was a group that went up later to play for the crowd. They were called The Twang, whose specialty was taking rock, pop, and disco hits and making them “go country.” While amusing enough in itself, there was a definite added novelty in the fact that the band themselves were German and the lead singer could nail a perfect southern accent when he sang. They won the crowd over with their novelty, but it was their excellent rearrangements and good musicianship that sustained them. Admittedly, I even preferred their versions of familiar songs at times from a purely musical standpoint. The crowd absolutely loved them, and as the night progressed and the people had a little more to drink, the place got a little more livelier and, eventually, dancing became part of the order of the evening.

The ladies of our group did not at all hesitate to join in the festivities on the floor. While the band cranked out mountain-style rhythms and rustic melodies with fiddly counterpoints, the girls would bust any moves they knew that might resemble country style dancing. The men were happy to merely sit at the table, but eventually the girls decided that there was enough of that and tried to get the guys up to dance with them. My fellow men did not need much coaxing, but I was feeling pretty reserved and I resisted for most of the night. Dancing is certainly not one of those things I do well as a somewhat stereotypical geek. It’s worse if I have to do it with someone else. It means I could potentially make someone else look like a fool. However, also as a stereotypical geek, it’s not very often that I get enticed by a beautiful girl to dance with her. One of the girls, taking full advantage of the soft spot she knows I have for her, eventually broke down the barriers and was finally able to get me to cut a little rug with her during “Let It Be.”

It had been years since I’ve been at an occasion that called for dancing, and my rustiness certainly showed. Incidentally, the last time I went to a dance was when me and my fellow Splatt brothers threw a Christmas charity ball, and my date for that evening was the very same girl whom I was dancing with once more. My partner, lost in the music, was willing to let me find my footing. For all of one minute, however, the beat and the moment finally caught me, and in that short time my feet were finally doing what they were supposed to do and my partner and I were in perfect sync. It wasn’t long until I lost it again, though, and when the song transitioned into the next one, I decided it was time to sit down again. For a moment, I had it, and that was good enough for me.

It was a rather nice moment. I don’t get to experience that often. There is certainly a part of me the would like to be a good dancer, but I know I don’t want to bother to go through the proper training, as it were. I would need it, too. I don’t know if dancing is something that comes naturally to most people. Even though I’m a music enthusiast, the ability to move to it taps into certain motor skills and coordination of which I’m not very strong. I thought about it today and decided that someone would have to be stubborn enough to make me learn. It was that thought that led my mind to think about what I think is one of the most memorable nights from my high school days. As you can imagine, I always felt awkward in high school dances. For a moment on one evening, however, one girl made sure that I didn’t.

During my senior year, I had the fortune of taking a girl to a dance who came because she actually wanted to be there with me, as we were very close at the time. She knew how to dance, and not just in that “the rhythm is gonna get you” kind of way. Maybe she took lessons or something, but she knew the formal ways of doing certain dances. She had already graduated high school and had little desire to revisit things like high school formals, so being my date was a huge favor, and the fact that it represented how much she cared for me was not lost on me. However, she was going to make me work a little and get something out of it herself. She was determined to make me really dance with her.

I don’t recall all of what she was trying to teach me, but I only remember swing and the waltz. I remembered the first because I failed miserably at it. It wasn’t even the hard stuff. It was all basic stuff that had nothing to do with actually throwing your partner around. She was extremely patient with me and sometimes got a little frustrated, but she persisted. Unfortunately, that all proved to fruitless. However, I remembered the waltz because I actually ended up getting that right, although certainly it took a while. I seem to recall really nailing it, in true romantic fashion, on the last dance that evening. I had it down so well that she made the comment that I was even doing better than she was. I don’t know whether or not it was true or if she meant it, but it certainly made me feel good! I still consider it the best date I’ve ever been on. Although there are certainly other reasons, it was great because for a time, for a song, and for a dance – I had it.

And I believe that last night, for about a minute, I was able to tap into that moment. Although it was brief, I’m sure it never would’ve happened if it weren’t for the fact that, many years ago, a great girl saw fit to teach me a few things that she knew and cared enough to be patient about it. Today, I still have the waltz in my limited arsenal, and, although on the whole I’m still double left-footed, I am not completely hopeless on the dance floor. For that, I will forever be indebted to her.