If You're Gonna Play in Texas, You Gotta Have a Fiddle in the Band

 

Long before I arrived in Texas, it had been decided that my friend Liz, and I would go two-stepping.  This is only unusual for one reason.  Before this summer, Liz was not a country music fan.  She's a dancer to the core, but Keith Urban and Tay Swift were not on her list of iPod favorites.  All that changed when, well, I don’t know what miracle occurred, but now she's all about fiddle and banjo.  

I consulted my resident experts, and the verdict for a Wednesday night of two stepping was "Cowboys" in Arlington.  (Now, mothers, grandmothers and concerned aunts, know that I don't set my pretty painted toes inside a bar to get sloshed, smashed, wasted, etc., etc.  If it is even conceivable to go to a bar and not drink, conceive that thought in your kindly concerned minds, because I go to two step, not two fist.) 

Liz and I went (got lost) and met Cody and some of his friends there.  In Cody's praise, he's not much of a country or dancing fan, but he's a good sport and came along.  All this fall and summer, I've been two stepping in AZ, so I was excited to see if I actually knew anything, or if there was a whole other universe of real Texas two stepping.  We walked in and crinkled our noses at the smoke.  I haven't been in an indoor venue that allows smoking in years.  I thought that was a little 20th century of them, but we forged ahead.  Cody introduced us to his friends and we stood around and talked a little. 

Now, if you've read my other dance posts, you know I don't go dancing to have nice conversation.  I gave Liz and Cody some of my strategy, and they looked at me amusedly.  Going dancing is a lot like fishing, except that you act as both the bait and the fisherwoman.  You should smell nice and look nice- not shady, just nice.  You have to pick good fishing spots that aren't too crowded by other people fishing.  This means staying away from large clusters of girls, but don't pick remote corners either.  You have to keep your hands free in case someone wants to dance with you and he needs to take your hand and get on to the dance floor post haste.  Cody was surprised at that, but I assured him it happens.  Sometimes twirling your hair or doing other (cute/dumb) things has the effect of a fishing lure with a lip to make it skim across the water - eye catching. 

After this brief tutorial, I pointed out a spot I thought was perfect for tipping the odds in getting asked to dance - a stool on the edge of the dance floor where I could watch the dancing but be next to the walkway.  I told them to watch and wait.  Sure enough, as soon as the song ended and people came streaming off the dance floor in search of their next partner, presto, there he was.  "He", we'll call him Mr. Teal Shirt Guy, or Mr. T for short, wasn't a cowboy, wasn't originally from Texas, and probably wasn't originally from America.  He was slightly creepy and had an accent I couldn't place. 

Nevertheless, following my rule, I said yes.  Good thing I did, too, because that guy could dance.  Mr. T flatteringly declared me one of the best dancers there.  His personal space bubble was a little small, but I figured with Cody and his friends around, there wasn't reason for real concern.  He asked me to dance a couple other times that night, which is sort of against general protocol, but some people don't know about general protocol.  At that juncture, a girl has to make some decisions.  Dance with the great dancer who's slightly creepy, or sit on the sidelines?  That's up to you, but I danced. 

As soon as I came off the floor from dancing with Mr. T, I resumed my post and promptly got asked to dance by the guy holding up the pillar opposite me.  His name was RJ and he was huge.  When I say huge, I mean probably 6'5" and muscles the size of Samson.  He had similar transitions to the ones I've seen in AZ, which made him easy to follow.  He didn't say much, but we danced a couple times.  

  [Perhaps this would be a good time to note that guys who are not 6'5" with muscles like Samson should not feel incapable of being a memorable dance partner.  That's silly.  It's just like when you tell your friends about that gorgeous blonde you met at the gym once.  It's just a descriptor, not a condition for being awesome.]

Between these dances, I sat and talked to Liz and Cody or Cody's friends.  Some of Cody's roommates asked me to dance and gee whiz, they knew what they were doing on the dance floor.  They had all kinds of cues (that I kept missing), but they were nice about it.  I also danced with Cody, who completely downplays his dancing talents.  There were line dances and hip hop breaks and general merriment all night.  We quit about, well, sometime before 1, and went home. 

There's just something about fiddle and banjo and boots and twirling and dipping that makes life great.  My first experience with real Texas two stepping was a good one, and I have a hunch there will be a return to it before too long.  Thanks to Cody for being our bodyguard and Liz for falling in love with country music. 

Just remember, girls, boys are fish; you are fisherwomen and bait.  I don't mean bait in a slimy, sparkly chartreuse Power Bait sort of way, more like a clean lined bass lure with a little lip sort of way.  Don't fish where it's crowded, but stay in sight of friends in case you reel in a fish you can't handle and need a little assistance.   

Love and banjo,

Little Miss Sunshine