Nothing Like a Kick in the ….

The lesson began as most lessons- the dreaded Rounds! As we proudly flew around the floor at a truly dizzying pace, my Teacher screamed, “Children in Eastern Europe walking in snow to dance with no shoes move better.”  So, we dragged our old butts a little faster and farther until the white noise from our teacher subsided. To us, it seemed we had been practicing for hours, but the clock on the wall shattered the myth — 5 minutes tops. So much for being in shape.

After Rounds, we began the technical instruction. The lesson of the day was the famous développé. In the words of Mr. AI, it is “a ballet movement where the working leg is drawn up to the knee of the supporting leg then slowly extended to an open position holding it there with control.” A pretty kick. Please note the word “control,” an important concept to note for later in the story.

Our développé was in an open position, out of frame with several feet separating us. Teacher did not like Susie’s développé.  I can’t remember the exact description, but “painful to watch” may have been used. So, we began the technical breakdown of the open développé. You would think just lifting your leg up and slowly kicking it out would be easy-peasy. But noooo. According to our teacher, every cell in the female dancer’s body activates a complex array of muscles, determination, balance, intellect, and stamina to properly execute the move. Way too complex for the male mind to grasp. I was told to stand out of the way and provide support with my body (be a pole). Hey, that involves a complex array of …. she wasn’t buying it. So, I wandered off to practice my pole moves.

Susie, after receiving what seemed like thousands of words of detailed instruction, was ready to “improve and expand” her kick. Waltz Music, please. First, a little momentum. Susie swooped into position, her head slightly back, the leg slowly went up and up and up (Go, woman, Go!). I saw the pain of strain on her face, not sure that look was ready for prime time. I was in an arched position (Teacher calls “banana”) to the side, supporting her firmly with two hands (being a good pole). I began to feel her body tighten to reach that magical “Kodak Moment” position. Her extended leg was still rising. We were almost to the apex of her physical ability. I glanced over and thought, “Hey, this looks pretty good.” Just a few more inches…..

Without warning, the delicate balance on the one leg crumbled. Her extended leg, which is high in the air, now pivoted toward me like a turret on a tank swinging into position to acquire a target. My view changed from an elegant leg to a pointy protruding heel. Now weaponized in a lead position. The descent of the leg in a perfect world was slow and graceful (read controlled). But when you are out of balance, the brain has other ideas. What I saw next was a flash of a collapsed leg led by a pointy heel headed with great urgency toward my…

Impact! My world turned to Pain. I doubled over and saw stars. Still bent over, I cried out in a newly acquired Bee Gee voice, “Hey, you kicked me in the ….”  I couldn’t manage the strength to finish the sentence in my new falsetto voice. I was fully expecting someone to call 911 — man down, been abused at dance studio. Hearing no phone call, I looked up with tearful eyes and saw not the sympathetic faces of my partner and teacher but… two females also bent over laughing like hyenas circling a fresh kill. Somewhere deep within the female dancer’s mind, this must have released a primeval urge of repressed dance practice anger. Susie’s laughter I attributed to practice revenge- some nonsense about me being bossy. But my Teacher! The female dance bond is strong in those two.

As I glared at the two of them having an excellent time, I think I heard the words:” Baby,” “deserved it,” “Suck it up,” “Quit whining,”  “No crying in ballroom.” Pretty sure I heard those. Ballroom is a contact sport.