Tricky

Over the last few months Kelly and I have been focused on learning dips and tricks for East and West Coast Swing. It’s an interesting process, learning what you can and can’t do and testing limits involves, by definition, failure. Failure is the limit, it’s the unknown point where your body won’t perform or your ability to adapt to a new move is so taxed that downside overwhelms upside. At times like that I find myself asking if I really want to spend three months trying to learn a drop that I’ll use maybe once in a whole night’s dancing. Often I find that my time would be better spent learning a more basic and versatile step that I can incorporate often or use to get out of sticky situations on the dance floor but the siren call of the trick always remains.

So, what is it about tricks, drops, and dips that makes them so alluring? Why, as a dancer, do we want to potentially smash our partner’s face into the floor or permanently damage our shoulders and backs for a trick? Maybe it’s the flash of specialness, the split second when everyone in the dance hall looks your direction, collectively taking a shocked breath before being brought back from their suppositions that disaster has struck and realizing you meant to do what you did. Someone once said any star who tells you they don’t like being gawked at is a liar and I imagine the same goes for dancers. I mean, admit it, if we didn’t want to be looked at we’d dance in our kitchens, not in a ballroom or club.

I think there’s an element of human DNA at work too, especially when young singles are involved. For millions of years mankind has been engaged in various sorts of mating dance. Sure, it might not sit well to think of strutting your stuff on the dance floor as a way of advertizing what you have to offer to the opposite sex. We’re thinking animals, right? Well, to deny dancing is a way of advertizing ourselves is to deny half of that statement. We do think but we are animals too.

What about me, though? I’m married and middle aged and though I like to think I impress my wife with my ability to dance, I think the desire to learn tricks means more. For me I think this is the little league that I never had growing up. It’s my sport, my chance to get out there and compete – something that’s odd since I’ve got no interest in contests or medaling. Still, when I get a complement it feels like I’ve put one in the “W” column.

I’d be remiss, though, if I didn’t at least gripe a little on the subject of tricks. While the ups of doing a trick are minimum, they’re like toppings on a burger – put too many on and you’ll never be able to pick the sandwich up without making a mess of things. Likewise, if you stuff your dancing with tricks it doesn’t look like a dance anymore. Suddenly what was flowing to the music becomes jerking and posturing while a band plays in the background.

Also, there’s the issue of when to do a trick. The other night we were at a crowded dance when a guy decided to do a breakdance shoulder spin. The move cleared space but I guarantee most of the people who saw the move weren’t impressed – they were irritated. It was a stupid and dangerous decision to pull a trick that wasn’t designed for social dancing in the middle of a social dance. I’ve promised myself never to be *that* guy.