The Bubble Girl

This post is not about some kind of bubble dance, although I did see a man dressed all in bubbles last Halloween. (Check out the Casa Loma website for the 2008 Halloween party). No, this frothy interlude is about how I survive as a private person in the very public world of dance.

Dancing is mostly public. Duh. I guess I never thought too much about that when Gary and I first started; our lessons were private, our practice was also. But as we progressed we wanted to dance out for a number of reasons; we out grew our small dance floor, we do enjoy the energy of a crowd, and we like to watch other dances.

And then it hit me; if I watched other dancers perhaps they were, gasp, watching me. About that same time I noted people around me assessing and critiquing others, what they had on, what dances they did and don’t do, and how well they executed moves.

You may ask yourself at this point, don’t I do this myself? Well, yes and no. I enjoy watching the crowd through slitted eyes and imagining I’m in some kind of fairy grove. (I’m a writer, OK?) When I’m not doing this my eyes travel to couples who have a particular style I like, or are doing moves I want to learn. I don’t assess or critique, unless someone crashes into me.

But I know others do, and for awhile that totally freaked me out. But then I came up with a couple of strategies. The first was, hey, who or what are they comparing me too? Themselves? I don’t care. The Official Ballroom Technique? I don’t care. The normal dance dress code? I really don’t care.

That helped. But I still felt weird when I perceived someone’s eyes on me, or Gary whispering people are watching. So I then imagined that I was in a bubble, rather like Sarah’s in the movie Labyrinth. And that was the final strategy that enabled me to dance freely, not caring if I mess up, or if someone thinks what I’m wearing or doing is strange, wrong, or silly.

My sister just finished reading Carrol Spinney's Big Bird & Oscar the Grouch book. Carrol Spinney was Big Bird. He enjoyed playing the character, except when he was expected to dance. Apparently, even without the costume he believed he couldn’t dance. He carried on for a number of years, hating it. One day the Rockettes asked for him. He panicked. Then one of his fellow Muppet wielders asked, how old is Big Bird supposed to be? Carrol replied, about five. Well, said his friend, wouldn’t any five year old think he was a fabulous dancer? And so Carrol approached the Rockette number with that sort of attitude… and had a wonderful time.

I don’t think it matters what your strategy is; a bubble, a five year old giant bird, a fairy princess, or perhaps an appearance on Dancing With The Stars. People can be thoughtless. But don’t let their comments, real or imagined, keep you from dancing.

And hey, if you allow yourself to interpret the music freely maybe you’ll be the couple people want to emulate.