Dance class began on time, meaning before 8. I walked in behind the two women who have mullets. As soon as I walked through the door, I was gasping for air. Something. Smelled.
The takes-up-space woman jumped on me as soon as I walked through the door to the dance room--where's your friend? S has been upgraded. I said she was sick. I was on my own.
One of the women with the mullet and I discussed the smell. It was strong. It was gross. I was hoping it wasn't lethal. People opened lots of windows, which they do anyway because we get hot quickly.
We all started dancing despite the smell. We did one dance--Irish Stew-- and I was really hot and the smell was really intense. I took off my long-sleeved top immediately. The room was freezing, but I was sweating. The room smelled. I smelled. Don't be jealous.
The sweet woman who dances always one beat ahead or behind left. She couldn't breathe.
Another woman tied jacket around her face. Jean said, Don't worry, no one is watching you--they're all watching their feet.
Jean? Is one funny lady! 1. Sarcasm! I like it! 2. Despite the fact that everyone did see the woman, they all DO look at their feet when they dance! I look at my feet for the dances that I'm learning; I do my best to keep my head up when I know the dance. Or I watch the feet of the people three rows ahead of me. Which is hard to do when I'm in the back and we're facing the back wall and no one is in front of me. I've started watching our reflection in the windows when I don't know what I'm doing.
Then one of the mullets left. She couldn't take the smell.
Jean said that the smell had something to do with work the maintenance staff was doing on the chlorine tanks. The smell was not chlorine. It was like shellac in a meth lab.
Some interesting observations for S: Brown wore jeans and sneakers. One of the clique was late, the one who wears Loony Toons t-shirts. When she walked in, all dressed up in work attire, I didn't ask if she had a good dinner and I didn't yell out Tardy! in her face.
I noticed wide-denim-belt woman staring at me from time to time. I got paranoid. Does she know I've been writing about her fashion sense?
My main accomplishment of the evening: I learned the turn in the Bossa Nova! Finally!
Then we did a whole lot of dances all in a row: Chachanella, Black Magic, Burlesque, Cooler Than Me, and The Wonderland Waltz, which is the 3rd most popular dance in the world. Then Jean said, let's do Sweet Slow Stupid Song, but she put on the music for Hello Dolly. Had the fumes gotten to Jean?
Then with about twenty minutes left, Jean said we were going to learn the dance from the G E Commercial.
This is what it looks like in the commercial:
This is what it looks like when you do it in a cramped hallway:
It's a pretty simple dance. It's fun to do. We did it a bunch of times.
Then we did Walking in the Rain, aka the Christmas song that pretends not to be. While teaching, Jean admitted to feeling nauseaus and so we did the dance, which is sort of complicated when you're tired and can't breathe, and then ended ten minutes early.
The last mullet standing asked the clique what their names were as we were all packing up. They so did not want to answer. Reluctantly, they gave their real names. You know fake names were at the tip of the tongue but they wouldnt be able to get away with it. Then again, who would say anything?
Oh, wait a minute, maybe Jean would since she kind of scolded them during class when they were listening to a ring tone while Jean was teaching the G E commercial dance. She was like, take it outside if you're not going to pay attention ladies.
Go Jean. Go Jean. It's amazing what a little nausea will do to a person.