Dancing in the Moonlight...

In the middle of the City, the downtown, bustling, summertime City, I stepped into a world of gaiety and joy, with a distinct vintage flavor.

I went swing dancing in the middle of the City.

And when I say, "I went swing dancing," of course I mean, "I was in the company of individuals who knew how to swing dance, while I awkwardly stepped about with a smile on my face."

I had convinced my mom and my aunt to take the train into the City with me one Friday evening.  The dancing was to be in Grant Park, the classiest and grandest of all the parks, if you ask me.  There would be an hour-long dance lesson, and then live music... and dancing!

You must understand something about me: I am a fierce dancing enthusiast.  I love all things dancing, and every kind of dancing.  I want so badly to be good at dancing... but it just doesn't come very easily to me.  And when I say, "It just doesn't come very easily to me," of course I mean, "My arms and legs flail about in an awkward fashion while others look on with pity."  So I will be very quick to jump into a dancing situation, but very slow to learn the steps.  Fortunately, I was in the company of a mom who is a good encourager and an aunt who is a good dancer.  And very friendly to strangers.

The adventure began when we walked to Grant Park from the train station.  It was not a far walk, but the sun was forming beads of sweat on our foreheads and causing our fair Irish skin to flush with the heat.  We arrived at Grant Park; rather, the section of Grant Park in which I assumed the dance would take place.  Who knew Grant Park was so big?  We walked another good stretch and found it, but by this time we had wilted in the heat and our patience had taken a beating.  Still, I beamed when I saw the huge crowd on the colorful dance floor surrounded by skyscrapers.  Some were even dressed in their fifties best!  I had wanted to, as I love playing dress up (yes, even at my age), but I didn't want anyone to get the wrong impression that I was actually good at dancing.

There's something else you need to know about me: I don't talk to strangers.  Especially male strangers.  I just don't.  It makes me very uncomfortable and I become very shy.  But my aunt!  My aunt will talk with anyone, at anytime.  And then there's my mom, who is normally very friendly but has become increasingly wary of the general public and eyed everyone with discreet suspicion.  We made quite the trio.

 "Come on!"  My aunt motioned for me to join her at the back of the dance floor.  I took a breath, willing myself to be both friendly and not a total klutz.  The men were in a line facing the lake, the women were in a line facing downtown, in front of the men.  The idea was to follow the lead of the instructors and dance with the man in front of you until they said to switch, when you would dance with the new man in front of you.  My worst nightmare.  Yet, determined to overcome my fears, I smiled at the man in front of my and took his sweaty hands in my sweaty hands and we did the simple rock step we were taught.  I will say, I got the hang of it, even if he didn't.  When he moved on and the steps got a bit harder, we ran out of dance partners at our end of the line, so I danced with my mom, which was a sight to be seen.  Soon enough we had the routine down, but only if I concentrated really hard and looked only at my feet.

Then the music began.  I'm not sure you can fully appreciate this unless you've experienced this, but listening to a live band in the middle of the city as night comes over the sky is like a dream.  The lights pop on one by one around you and the sky turns the most beautiful shade of blue.  The breeze picks up and cools your sweating skin, now that the sun is hidden behind the tall buildings.  And the music floats above all the heads straight to your ears, your heart.  It's like nothing else.

My aunt may or may not have told a young man "Come dance with my niece, she doesn't have anyone to dance with."  I still haven't decided.  Either way, I found myself putting on a brave face and friendly attitude even though I was mortified to the core.  We chatted a bit and did the most simple of the steps we'd learned.  I was mostly self-deprecating, but he was very patient and didn't mind dancing with a beginner, as he'd been a beginner once himself.  That's something I noticed with this crowd-- there were some fantastically talented dancers, but most were recent learners, eager to pass on their knowledge to new dancers.

I spent most of the rest of the time just watching, taking in, and taking pictures, except when my mom or aunt would tell me to put my camera down and go dance.  I was comfortable behind the camera; I was uncomfortable on the dance floor.  I danced a few more times and had a few more conversations, and was thoroughly pushed outside my comfort zone.  In a good way, I guess.

Before we left, I walked to another section of the dance floor for another perspective in my pictures.  And suddenly, a tall head bobbed into my view.  Out of all the people in the entire City, out of all the people at that dance, I saw someone I hadn't seen for about five years.  I wanted to stare, but that would make me a creeper.  So of course I did an even creepier thing, but it was much less noticeable.  I snapped a picture and stared at that.  It was him!  It was the one man who had ever told me he wanted to date me, then when I wanted to be friends, promptly dropped me as a friend.  He was here, dancing in the City, of all places.

I told my mom.  She asked if I had said hi.  I told her it would be pretty awkward to say hi to someone who had unfriended you on facebook.  She cringed a little and I smiled sardonically.  It was weird and I hope he didn't see me.

Despite that very strange incident, I found myself totally in love with the event, and we walked back to the train, energized and exhausted at the same time.  

Dancing in the City is magical; I think I smiled the whole way home.