I wrote this when I was 12 years old. No shit. I think it's the greatest thing I've ever written.
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What ever happened to my once
flourishing dancing career?
I was by far and away the greatest dancer
to ever come through the West Island. I remember one particular grade
7 dance where I really left my mark as a supreme dance artiste if you
will. Our school was both socially and racially segregated. There was
quite a large contingent of Black students, black stereotypical
students who walked the walk, talked the talk and more importantly
danced the dance. At the same time socially, the jocks hung out with
other jocks, outcasts with fellow delinquents, skaters among the
roller freaks and of course everyone else just struggled to survive
in the most important years of a child's social development. When
grade 7 came around I was a small fish in a large pond. Having lost
both my parents to a tragic jai lai accident, my sister and I were
left to take care of ourselves even though she was only a couple of
years older. However, we thrived in our little environment, making
the best of what we had. She worked various nigh jobs to pay for her
portion while I taught tap dance. As expected from many of the kids
of the inner city portion of Dollard Des Ormeaux, very few actually
had enough money to pay for my invaluable lessons. Their compensation
was role reversal in that I learned many of the more urban dance
moves like the Big Slick Pierrefonds Shuffle and the Lapa-Rockland
which is basically the running man mixed in partially with the robot
partially with a fake epileptic seizure. I had always been extremely
passionate about dancing ever since I went with my mother as she
competed at the 73rd annual Tuskanee Dance fever competition. She may
have finished out the running ( a more than respectable 13th out of
more than 800 competitors), however from that fateful moment on, I
was 100% inspired. I saw the pride bursting from her as she completed
a triple toe loop double sow-cow after pulling a head spin for more
than 30 seconds, it was magical. The judges seemed to agree, however,
it is next to impossible to compete against performers who actually
have the power to defy logic and gravity. Regardless of where she
finished, I knew from that moment that my place in life involved
gettin' funky. However, seeing as I have been working in the job
market since I was 7, I haven't had very much time to perfect my
skills. So when the opportunity arises to play the role of student as
opposed to the role of teacher, I jump at it. Anyways, I felt it was
my duty to keep this little dance exchange quiet from my sister
because we were both equally responsible for maintaining the economic
balance in the household, yet I wasn't really pulling my weight.
Besides, I didn't want to deal with the ridicule of giving away my
skills for free (my sisters thought process was more financially
driven than mine). So this exchange went on for more than a year but
it wasn't until I met Esteban that I truly understood the value of my
talents....
I remember one day trying to teach my
sister the basics of the Pierrefonds Pop n Lock, however she seemed
to be lacking in what us pros call rhythm. For some reason I found
this quite strange considering how passionate she is about music
(only later in life did I find out she suffered from Refractiologism
– a very rare disease in which the muscles in your body do the
opposite of what the brain tells them to do). Our infrequent and
usually short, tense sessions would go something like this:
"You suck and you
have no rhythm."
"Yeah well you’re
an asshole. I quit."
And by then one of us would end up
stomping off to our room while the other would walk around the house
triumphantly, as if they had won the mini battle of having the
freedom to roam anywhere they wanted except for that one room where
the other had stormed off to. And usually that one triumphant person
would act very indifferent about the incident even though in the back
of their mind, it would be eating them up inside. This internal
aggravation would be caused by either the idiocy of how quickly the
argument escalated or the ignorance of the other person.
Getting back to Estaban, he was my
sister’s boyfriend for a brief period of time and was a fairly
quiet and reserved young man. His persona was quite a contrast to my
sisters outgoing, oblivious and ambitious sense of self and I think
he felt threatened by that. Even though they were both young, their
relationship was heavily influenced by their desire to act like
adults. My sister, seeing as she was older, took the onus of being
the one who should set a good precedence and serve as a good,
responsible role model, and the only way to do so would be to act
years beyond her actual age. Estaban had the competence of someone
you would expect at his age, yet felt it was necessary to at least
try to mimic my sister’s attempt at maturity. Thus, they ended up
having adult problems on a regular basis. With Estaban, he was
constantly being told of his inadequacies and inferiority and that he
was not as polished and refined as my sister. And she let him know
that, always telling him how he will never be ready to commit to a
serious relationship or will never be capable of taking care of kids.
And he would shoot back by criticizing her need to nag him all the
time and that if she wasn't careful he was going to pack up and
leave (even though he didn't live there).
Even though he was a couple of years
older than me, we spent a lot of time together. I loved hanging out
with someone already in high school and he needed an outlet for his
anger and frustration. I was basically his opportunity to vent while
he was my crystal ball for what to expect in the future. He would
always tell me how his one want right now was to be able to do
something my sister had never been able to and I made mention of her
inability at mastering the art of Tap. I knew for a fact that Estaban
was a pretty good dancer when it came to the more hip and urban moves
because he had previously been in Boxers not Briefs, a local
boy band that momentarily hit it big in the midst of the whole boy
band craze. You may remember them for the hit Don’t snap my
undies,, a song that was geared more towards the youngish crowd
as opposed to the normal audience of boy bands alike. Anyways, they
were known more for their vastly superior dance moves than their
musical abilities and sure enough, as quickly as their rise to fame,
so too was their drop. After the release of their second album was
met with abysmal sales, Estaban decided that at the age of 12, he was
too old to be living with a rock n roll fantasy and decided, to his
parents delight, to re-enroll in high school, which is where he met
my sister. So the moment I made mention of my sisters two left feet
syndrome he immediately took me up on my offer to teach him tap in
exchange for his training me in every other form of dance known to
man (or at least known to him). For him, he didn't mind spending
all his free time with me so long as I made it perfectly clear in
front of my sister how well he was learning and how I had never had a
student progress as quickly as he. And of course I really didn't mind devoting all my time to him as opposed to everyone else that I
teach because very few of them actually did pay and those that didn't had nothing on Estaban as far as dance skills go. Besides, no amount
of money would have been worth giving up the opportunity to see my
sister get so infuriated. It wasn't those moments in which she made
it obvious that she was upset that made it worth it, it was those
moments where she tried admirably to make it seem as if she was proud
of him. Her face would let off a nice reddish hue and you could hear
her grind her teeth in the next house over as she put on just about
the fakest little smile worthy of belonging at the Miss America
pageant. And just because I could, I would take it just a tad too far
to the point where she could no longer stand it and would tell me
enough already. Call it a little bit of sibling rivalry.
What also helped was the fact that this
casual agreement came right on the cusp of summer and both of us had
this unspoken bond of wanting to accomplish something during the time
off. It was also fortunate that our goals coincided with what the
other had to offer. He wanted to learn the only skill I had to offer
while I wanted to learn everything else, and he happened to be
knowledgeable in some of that everything else. And the timing could
not have been better. I was already basking in the glory of vacation
while he only had a couple of exams left before he could finally
succumb to the pleasures of summer, although in our cases there wasn't a lot of fun to be had. It was a summer of hard work with
the result hopefully leading to something much more satisfying than
whatever the two months off had to offer. He felt it was worth giving
up the time in order to piss off someone close to him. I, on the
other hand, had even more superficial reasons for making such a
sacrifice – I wanted an opportunity to prove my worth in dance
form, especially for when I make the transition to high school. And
lets be honest, I was not going to win over anyone with my stellar
tap dance routines. Kind of like making the adjustment from the
minors to the big show, because of my ability to bunt – it’s a
skill, but no one is gonna pay to watch it.
Because Estaban and I had spent a lot
of time together, he had no problems in telling me everything about
high school and some of the keys to succeeding socially. And of all
of his stories, at least half of them had something to do with
something that happened at a school dance. He told me how he
remembers his first high school dance and how the only people that
made any real attempt at dancing were pretty damn good while those
who clearly looked as if they had no clue just stood off to the side
and blended into the background. What I got from that is that cool
people dance, losers watch. Estaban learned a lot about this specific
age group from his days on tour and he gave me one of the most
obvious yet valuable pieces of info about high school kids that
helped me throughout my entire high school tenure – kids are
extremely dependent on how others perceive them to be (well, he didn't quite use such eloquent terminology. I believe his words
were no one wants to look like a friggin moron in front of everyone
else). He would tell me how it was always the popular kids who knew
how to dance, while it was the dorky ones who just went for the punch
while secretly ogling the girls. I always knew that if I was gonna
get anything out of my 5 years of high school, it was gonna be
popularity. Who really gives a fuck about knowledge when you are in
your early teens? High school is more about teaching you how to
survive and more importantly how to thrive among your fellow peers.
And if I wanted that to happen I was gonna have to make an immediate
impression. Besides, if I was able to sell myself at these dances,
well just imagine would kind of business that would drum up? Not only
would I no longer be limited to teaching tap, which isn't exactly a
big hit with the young crowd nowadays, but if everyone were able to
see me do what I know I am capable of doing, then they will be
practically kicking down my door just for the opportunity to have 10
minutes with me.
I told Estaban of these hopes and
dreams and he seemed genuine in his excitement to see me become
everything I hope to become. He also told me that if everything
worked out and business does pick up, he would love the opportunity
to work with me. He already had the credentials and would certainly
bring in a broader clientele base. However first things first…I had
to teach him how to Tap.
June 23rd finally came
around, a day that both Estaban and I had been waiting for. His last
exam came on the 18th of June but he wanted a few days to
prepare for what he knew was going to be a lot of hard work and
dedication. It also didn't help that the last school dance of the
year was taking place only a couple of days after his last exam
(which he aced, he told me on severely occasions) and he happened to
spend much of his time in preparation for the evenings events.
Êstaban also wanted both of us to spend a few days preparing
lessons. The way our schedule was going to work was that he was going
to spend a week straight teaching me and the following week I was
going to teach him. That way we would both be able to spend a week
practicing what we had learned. I will spare you the specific details
of what went on week after week, but I will say this, our
relationship blossomed into more than just companions on the dance floor we became life dance partners, not in a sexual way, but
through a great amount of respect and admiration for one another.
Week in and week out we spent the days helping each other practice
and perfect what we had set out to do. There were moments where he
would stumble or I would stumble (more often me than him), and there
were times when the level of frustration would be too overbearing,
but neither of us ever even thought about quitting. We had both
overcome much adversity in our lives and neither of us were prepared
to give up so easily. Whenever there were moments of tension, we
would just remind each other of the goals and how the benefits of
only a couple of months worth of hard work and one sacrificed season
would last forever.
And I kept up my part of the bargain or
at least tried to. I didn't see my sister alone that much during
the season. Estaban spent a great deal of time at our house (we
managed to convert the basement into a fairly professional looking
dance studio) as we spent the entire afternoon and many evenings
working at perfecting our craft. Most evening sessions went late into
the wee hours of the morning and he would end up staying the night,
sometimes leaving early in the morning sometimes staying for an early
morning tap bonanza. Those few moments when I was able to see my
sister alone, I made sure she knew how well her boyfriend was doing.
Ambling by her very deliberate and lethargic talking about how much
Estaban had worn me out from our all night sessions and how I ad
never had a dance partner as sensuous as he. I am sure on more than
one occasion my sister wondered whether I was teaching him to dance
or having a torrid love affair. Truth be told, the way she would get
angry by my compliments, I am sure she wished it were the latter. And
it wasn't like I had to lie either as Estaban truly was able to
pick up tap faster than any other student I have ever had. By the end
of our two month intensive course, it was not much of a stretch to
say that he became as good at tap as I. Once he realized the
simplicity of the basics of tap, everything else was gravy. Tap, like
most dance forms, only requires a small basic understanding, and a
whole lot of rhythm and practice. And Estaban picked up the basics
much quicker than I could, has more rhythm than the Jackson 5
combined, and gives a 110% in everything he does. I clearly remember
the last thing he said to me on our last day together. We were
sharing a coke and he looked at me and said,
"Tim"
"Yeah?"
"I don’t think your sister is ever
going to talk to me again. But it was worth it."
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I, on the other hand, was not the
swiftest of feet as Estaban was. I tried my hardest to pick up
everything that I was taught but in all honesty, I was so used to
practicing tap and little else that I looked like a puppet with no
knees and absolutely no upper body movement. Estaban would tell me I
look too mechanical whenever I dance, but I can honestly blame that
on my experience with the tap. It requires that you subtly swing your
arms and concentrate on using the balls and the heels of your feet –
nothing more. Estaban taught me all about learning how to feel the
music and let my body move with the beat. The difference, he would
tell me, between tap and all this other stuff is that in tap you are
supposed to look stiff and uptight. What I am teaching is supposed to
go against the grain of everything those tap pros believe in. I guess
you could say we are the rebels, the James Deans in a world of
Richard Nixons. While at my age, the names were just names, I got the
idea. Estaban, while fairly immature in almost all aspects of his
life, was wise beyond his years when it came to dance. He told me
that in order for me to learn how to dance and dance passionately, I
had to forget everything I had already learned, meaning tap. He also
stressed that I basically had to deprogram myself and erase
everything I was taught when I was younger. He said dancing involves
not memorizing steps, but feeling what comes naturally. Basically, in
order for me to make it as a dancer, I was going to have to forget my
bread and butter, my meal ticket, the one thing that still connects
me with the memory of my mother. I was going to have to forget tap.
So I struggled quite a bit, not
because I was so used to dancing tap, but because it was very
difficult for me to voluntarily let go of something that is so
personal. I had to make a choice; tap or popularity. Needless to say
I went with the choice that would be more beneficial in my high
school days. Everyday I would get up an hour early, half an hour to
forget the past, half an hour to memorize my future. The more that
left the easier it seemed to pick up what Estaban was teaching me.
What he had to offer was a million times better, flashier and more
innovative than anything the other punks in my neighborhood tried to
teach me. He would always have a story to go with every dance move he
showed me.
- This one drove the girls wild in
Europe, especially Spain.
- If you can master this one,
guaranteed that you would be the most respected kid in Brooklyn, just
like I was when I was forced to compete in an underground break
dancing competition in between shows in New Jersey and Long Island.
I don’t know how many of these
stories were actually true but it didn't matter because they did
their job. I was inspired beyond belief. Between Estaban's tour
stories and his school stories, I knew exactly what I wanted to be
and what I needed to do to achieve that.
And Estaban was as determined as ever
to see that I became a great student. He and my sister were
constantly getting into fights and I can probably take a lot of
credit for that. In fact, the more fights they got into, the more he
wanted to hang around the house which meant he was relishing every
moment of her envy. So he either wanted to teach me the best he could
to show his appreciation, or just as an excuse to constantly rub it
in my sister’s face. Either way I was the one benefiting the most.
I was getting the best training and was able to enjoy the ire of my
older sister.
As our two months together passed, I
started to see a lot of changes in my dancing abilities. No longer
was I restricted by the same almost robotic out-dated style. Now I
was a new man and let me tell you, papa had a brand new bag. I was on
the cusp of starting high school and thanks to the steps that Estaban
taught me, I was bursting with confidence. The first day of class was
on the 28th of August but the first school dance wasn't until the end of September. I had little more than a month to prepare
for what could transform me into what I always wanted to be.
------------------------------------------------
Well tonight is the night. Months of
practice and years of anticipation and expectations have all led up
to this one 5 hour period. It was going to make me or it was going to
break me. And since the sheer mental and physical exhaustion over the
summer already broke me, I figure I deserved to have it made. The
week leading up to the big dance was an intense crash course as
Estaban and I devised a list of songs that would probably be played
at the dance. We scoured all the top 40 lists and he actually went
out of his way to sneak into a rival schools (Riverdale) dance to see
what songs were playing and what songs were getting the greatest
response.
Was I taking this too far? Probably.
But Estaban is to blame for a lot of that. It was his stories that
inspired me and scared me into thinking that how I perform at a dance
would be a gigantic peer evaluation of what kind of a person I was
(sure, I mean forget about the 40 hours a week I spend with these
people, it all comes down to how I am at special outings). It was
Estaban that wanted to show his appreciation because of the sheer
satisfaction he got out of our tap experience. It was Estaban that
seemed to want to live through me vicariously and thus practically
ran a dance boot camp which made things a little uncomfortable as the
weeks waned. Heck, he even came up with some two-people simultaneous
dances just in case he decided to show up. I don’t know how that
would have helped his school cred but it would sure give mine a
boost. Imagine this unknown little 7th grader in a dance off with the
self-titled best dancer in the school. He really had nothing to lose
as he was already in grade 10 and his popularity was already at a
high level. He would never have to worry about losing any steam
because, let’s be honest, being a celebrity at some point in your
life is equal to guaranteed status. He didn't seem to have a
problem with it and frankly nor did I. In fact he seemed downright
giddy over such prospects. It is as if he took me under his wing and
wants to be there the moment I skyrocket into social acceptance.
He was going to help me in one way or
another, even though I kind of preferred that I did it alone. I don’t
want too many people making the connection between him and me (read:
my sister). Maybe after I bust out a few moves he could like jump in
three quarters of the way through a song and that’ll really get the
crowd moving. For example, I could keep it real throughout Bust A
Move by Young MC and when the third verse starts (you know, the one
that begins – my best friend Harry has a cousin Larry…), he could
jump in and everyone in the audience would be hooting and hollering,
saying stuff like Oh Snap or Check out my BOY. But most importantly,
I want that moment in the sun alone; the simultaneous dancing would
just be the icing on the cake.
So during the first few weeks of my
high school career, I purposely gave myself a low profile leading up
the dance because I thought it would be cooler if I didn't spend
the entire time boasting. If I did that, I know the hype would
certainly exceed my abilities and that would for sure crush any
dreams I had of popularity. It was extremely tough to do because I
only knew a couple of people in the school (who went to the same
elementary school as me) and everyone was clearly going out of their
way to make an impression on the rest of their classmates. It is
early in your first year at high school that you get categorized into
the group that you will be a part of for your entire 5 year tenure.
The nerds establish themselves early, as do the burnouts, the jocks
and the bullies. It was easy to see many of the students try too hard
too early and end up being stereotyped as wannabes, or those who will
do anything to achieve popularity, but end up being the butt of
everyone’s jokes. By the time the dance came along, it was clear
that the boundaries were set. In one corner were the burnouts,
standing near the exit as groups of two or three would meander out
and come back slightly loopy, and then another group would go out.
The Chaperones were none the wiser, and maybe playing the role of
ignoramus as if they refused to believe that kids this young were
doing this sort of thing. In another corner were the nerds brave
enough to show up where they don’t belong. These are the
unfortunate students who made the mistake of raising their hand and
answering the teacher’s questions thus being permanently labeled as
geeks or teacher’s pet. The other side of the gym was where all the
jocks and the cool kids marked their territory. And naturally, where
the jocks go, so too go the women. My biggest problem was that I didn't know where I was supposed to go. Like I said, I spent so
much time not committing to any single group; I was a man without a
crew. I always felt that once I achieved what I came to achieve, I
was going to have my choice of who I wanted to be hanging out with. I
was going to be the prize free agent who was going to bask in the
glory of fringe benefits and luxuries until I made my choice. But for
now, I had to wander until I found a spot where I didn't look like
such a stranger.
The first half an hour was
excruciating. All the songs were unfamiliar and I was completely
unprepared mentally. I mean technically I could have gone out and
tore it up, but I just didn't quite feel like I was ready. This was
my big moment and it had to be perfect. If my dances were horrible or
I blew the timing on anything, I was going to be labeled in a
completely new group – the weirdo who has absolutely no idea.
There’s no group worst than that. I would rather be part of the
weird Goth kids or the ‘mama’s boys’ than be one of the weird,
loners. My one shot at fame and I blew it. Well, I didn't want that
to happen so if I was going to do this, it was going to happen on my
terms.
So what happened next? Well, again,
Estaban happened. He, along with his cool crew walk in fashionably
late as they make the rounds with the other cool grade ten students
along with all the ultra-cool kids in lower grades. You see once you
achieve a certain level of coolness at your grade; it is fairly
common to start hanging around with kids in higher grades. But they
were select company, and you had to do more than just dance really
well to achieve that. These kids are like the pro bowlers of the NFL.
Making the NFL is cool, but being voted as the best among your
peers puts you at a level not reached by many players. In high
school, you had to do everything well – dress well, have the look,
the style, the luxuries, the ability to get alcohol AND hold your
liquor and sometimes, only sometimes, do good grades matter. I never dreamed of reaching that
plateau, at least not yet. This all wasn't going to happen at one
dance, but this is where I was going to make my start.
Anyways, after making his rounds,
Estaban looked over and saw me leaning against a wall looking anxious
and overwhelmed. He said his goodbyes and walked right over to me.
That alone put me at a popularity rate higher than about half of the
grade seven class, that’s how much leverage the guy has. He looks
at me, opens his arms and says:
“What the fuck are you doing man?
This is your moment. We didn't bust our asses all freakin’ summer
for you to cop out now!”
“Don’t worry,” I told him in a
relaxed, almost cocky way. “I’m just waiting for the right song.
Everything they've played so far has been absolute crap.”
“Well, you do what you gotta do but
remember man, this is your time” He jams a finger into my shoulder
as if to literally jam his point home. “If I don’t see you on
that dance floor soon man, I’m gonna steal your thunder. Remember,
I taught you some of my secret moves and if you ain't gonna use em
man, I will.”
I nodded. We slapped hands. As he
starts to walk away he says, “Listen dude, do this shit and it’s
smooth sailing from here on in. If you pull this shit off, come over
and hang out with me and my crew. If you do what I've seen you do,
you’ll be in. And the babes,” He kisses his fingers like the way
the French do, “the babes will be crawling all over you like you
were Vanilla Ice himself.”
And ,almost as if right on cue, out of
the gym’s booming speakers, a voice makes one request…
“Yo V.I.P., Let’s kick it…”
Estaban looks at me and mouth’s the
words “Oh snap!”, and with that we both walk out and jump in pose
right when Vanilla goes “Alright STOP!”
We tore it up.
We had the whole crowd around us in a
circle. Some people thought we were just hired dancers who came with
the DJ, but most knew we were just students when they saw Estaban.
The whole school knew what he brought to the table, so most of the
murmurs and questions surrounded who the hell I was. You could hear
some of the kids screaming out phrases like “man, they kickin it!”
or “those moves are funky fresh!” all while they all pumped their
fist in the air like Arsenio Hall used to do. No one knew my name,
but they clearly recognized me as I would hear people talk about how
I am in their class but I never talk. I couldn't spend too much
time concentrating on them because I had to make sure I didn't screw up any of the moves. It’s one thing to throw my own
popularity on the line, but with Estaban dancing in sync with me, I didn't want to take the chance of hurting his rep. Like I already
said, I don’t know if my screwing up would actually damage him, but
it would certainly mess up the bond I have with him. Would he still
introduce me to the other cool kids or even worse, would he still
think I was cool enough to hang around with? The more I thought about
it, the more I realized that his camaraderie was way more beneficial
to my rep than the dance moves he showed me. The dancing was a way to
make an impression, but with Estaban, as long as he was still in high
school, I would always have an ‘in’ with the cool kids. I could
have made it without the dancing, but never without Estaban.
And it went just like it did at
practice. We were on fire. We were tighter than gold-medal winning
synchronized swimmers. We must have busted loose on six or seven
straight songs and the crowd ate it up. We hustled to ‘it takes
two’ by Rob base and DJ EZ Rock. We rocked the house when Dee-Lite
told us where the groove was. We lit it up when Fresh-Wes’ ‘let
your backbone slide’ bumped on the speakers. We broke it down when
we were told to stop because it was hammer time. Heck, Bell-Biv-Devoe
had nothing on us. We even put the humpty back into the humpty dance.
Everything went perfectly, but I would
be lying if I didn't say that a little guilt didn't creep into my
mind from time to time. I would start thinking about to the dance
competition my mother was in and I started thinking about how
thrilled she was when I came home the next day and told her I wanted
to be a tap dancer. Back then I didn't really know what tap was,
but I did know that her father was a world class tap dancer and they
had spent many nights talking about his achievements. My mother was
almost as enthralled by his stories as he was! I would hide behind
the couch (for no reason I might add!) and eavesdrop on their
conversations as if it was some taboo subject that I couldn’t know
about until I was older (truth be told, my grandfather told me much
later in life that they both knew I was hiding and that is why they
began talking about the subject. This made the guilt ever more
unbearable and I never had the heart to tell him I purposely forgot
how to tap).
And now look at me. I have completely
abandoned my heritage and for what? What was so important that I was
willing to neglect my roots and ruin the significance of what my
grandfather worked so hard to achieve? The answer to that is
acceptance. I basically slapped my family in the face so I can get a
bunch of 12 year old kids to like me, kids that I will probably see
again after graduation. Kids who would probably treat me like garbage
if not for my dance abilities.
No.
I couldn’t do it any longer.
Estaban and I left the dance floor to a
chorus of applause and hooting, and walked over to the forbidden zone
– the cool kids. Everyone was talking and high-fiving Estaban and
I, but I wasn't really paying attention. All I could hear were the
voices of my mother and my grandfather chatting enthusiastically
about my future as a world class tap dancer.
“He’s going to make us all proud.”
“I am so proud of my little tap
dancing Tim.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked
back to the dance floor without saying a word to the others, and the
moment the first notes of Wild Thang started playing, I did what I
should have done from the beginning. I tapped my ass off. I poured my
heart and soul into my tap routine.
And the crowd looked on silently. No
one knew what to think. I closed my eyes and imagined myself at a
competition and in the first row were my family cheering me on. I
could literally here the cheers and applause. And then I opened my
eyes, and the cheering continued.
I don’t know if it was just because I
had already shown myself to be cool or if the kids just dug tap, but
they loved every step, every tap, every swing of the arms. Well, the
real answer was because in my moment away from myself, Estaban joined
me and started to tap alongside me. I looked back and he nodded as if
to say “hey man, I got your back. Do what you gotta do.”
And that’s where the story ends.
I achieved my popularity but it wasn't because of the dance moves that Estaban taught me. It was the exact
opposite. It was because of the dance moves I taught Estaban. The two
of us made tap cool again. Once the other students saw Estaban
dancing, they all wanted to learn tap. Burn-outs would be seen
tapping while smoking a joint at the blue doors. The hippies found a
way to blend in the style with the grateful dead. Heck, even the
coach of the football team forced the entire team to learn it as a
way to improve their footwork. Everyone and I mean everyone was
desperate to learn.
And fortunately for me, I was the only
one in town who would teach it, or at least the only person who could
make it cool to learn. Estaban and I did what we said we were going
to do. We taught everyone in the neighborhood. He kept his word and
brought in everyone, but truth be told, I didn't really need him.
After all, I was the best tap dancer around.
