So yesterday Stacked Librarian and I hied ourselves to the Queen City to watch an international group of absurdedly-flexible dancers whirl about and toss their shiny hair. This was part of Stacked Librarian's birthday present; I was merely a tag-along. The long-touring show "Burn the Floor" takes ballroom dancing far, far away from the pasted prettiness of yards of pink net and Brilliantined hair.
Now, I must say that I'm not a dancer. My rhythmic abilities are pretty much limited to walking and the occasional muttered counting of "four, three, two . . . drat, which way?" in a Zumba class at the Y. However, I can greatly admire the strength and skills involved in dancing, which is not an especially easy art. In addition to precision training and cat-like balance, many of these routines involve strength and stamina way beyond what it may appear.
Dancers as delicate wusses? Tell you what, Drake, you try holding a girl upside-down and flinging her about all while keeping the beat and smiling. Then do it eight times a week. And if you're a girl, try doing this stuff backwards and in high heels.
You can get a taste for what I'm talking about here.
It was enough to forget the rainy mist that made driving a curse and (almost) enough to forgive the "planners" of Charlotte for their liking of one-way streets and very short green lights. I once heard that San Antonio was planned by a drunk on a blind mule and I think that person may have been run out of Charlotte for making too much sense in his style of urban planning. But that's me.
By the way, have you been watching Dollhouse? I'm still slightly behind, but I'm beginning to like what I see. If you're interested, check out my musings over here.