God & the Art of Ballroom Dancing

Slow, fast fast. Slow, fast fast. My feet stutter on the hardwood floor. My partner grimaces patiently.

Our instructors, a man/woman team, smile at us. “Once you get the basic steps down, you can do a bunch of variations and have fun with it.”

Slow, fast fast. Slow, slow—no, fast slow—damn!

One of the instructors comes over to us. “Here,” she says and takes my hand. “Slow, fast fast. Slow, fast fast. There you go! You’ve got it.” She hands me back to my partner and moves on to another couple.

Slow, fast fast. Slow, fast fast. (Yes!) Slow, fast fast fast, slow, uh, fast slow . . . . My partner shrugs and leaves to get a drink of water. I stand alone among the other couples, some of whom seem to have the hang of it. Others seem hopeless.

My partner is taking a long time. I watch as our instructors move from couple to couple. “Hold your partner’s hand like this.” “Smaller steps now.” “Great! You’re doing great!”

Finally, my partner returns. She gallantly takes my hand as the instructor puts on a new CD. It’s a sensuous Latin number. My partner brightens and looks hopefully at me. I want so bad to make it happen. Like Yoda tapping into the Force, I bring all my powers of concentration to bear.

Slow, fast fast. Slow, fast fast. Slow, fast fast.

I notice that my partner is smiling, but I don’t dare let go of my zen thing. I’ve seen the Star Wars movies; I know what can happen.

Slow, fast fast. Slow, fast fast.

Suddenly, without premeditation, without thought, I initiate an underarm turn, one of the simple variations we had been shown. Surprised, my partner executes her move flawlessly and we are back to the basic step without a hitch. She beams with delight.

“Fantastic!” I hear behind me. Risking a quick glance, I see both our instructors watching us. Their smiles are full and genuine. “Very nice.” I am approved.

I’m hot now. Slow, fast fast. Slow, fast fast. I try another turn and we nail it again. Slow, fast fast. I slip in a bit of a shimmy, a touch of Latin attitude as translated by a Norwegian raised in North Dakota. My partner rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling.

Good. Good. Slow fast fast. The zen thing has faded, but the vibe is strong. Slow fast fast. My feet slide through their moves like instinct. Our karma catches fire and just as the music ends I brazenly pull my partner close and kiss her. Our instructors catch the move and laugh. The other dancers look on jealously. My partner blushes and squeezes my hand. Class is over.

In a flush of triumph I lead my lady off the floor. I am Man. I am Adam before the fall. I’m a hip-groovin’ smooth-movin’ Son of the Most High God. You better believe it. Amen, baby.