Approximately 300 people attended the dance, and I would venture to say that 284 of them had enrolled in at least one of Mr. Murray's classes at some point in their life. The 8,700 square foot dance floor was a vortex of well-dressed couples spinning with complex footwork and impeccable posture. Everyone was in such unison that it seemed as though everyone had secretly gathered beforehand and mastered a complex choreography. That is, everyone but me and my date.
|The skilled dancers at the Indiana Roof Ballroom dance floor|
But even the eye of the hurricane was not safe. Although we were obviously confined in the same space, alternating between swaying and our limited dance moves, other couples seemed to not see us; it was as though our inferior dance skills made us invisible. We narrowly avoided at least a dozen collisions. I should add that in addition to being the worst dancers in the place, we stuck out even more because we were basically the only people there under 60.
Although this could have been a recipe for disaster, it made the experience much more memorable. We spent most of the night laughing at ourselves. We may have been the worst dancers there, but I would argue that we had the most fun. Although other dancers had impressive skill, most were very stiff and going through the motions. I would take two left feet and fun over joyless Dancing with the Stars abilities any day.
Being shown up on the dance floor wasn't so bad. The Indiana Roof Ballroom is beautiful, crafted to look like a Spanish villa at nighttime, complete with a ceiling painted to look like a night sky. The live band was passionate and the singer was fiery. It was fun to see old married couples out for a night on the town and gave me hope that being old and married maybe isn't as dull as I think it will be. And it was definitely the best date I've ever been on. Who knows, maybe I will be dropping by my local Arthur Murray dance studio soon.