Cha-cha: (n) a dance with Latin American rhythm

“Someone talked me into it.”

Those are the words that usually precede every horror story.

When I was in high school, some friends of mine wanted to go to a dance club because there were a lot of girls there and even though they
were not necessarily in favor of becoming “light of foot,” they were very interested in possibly lighting up some of the fine ladies.

So we decided to practice dancing–including the cha-cha.

I am large. I am pretty agile for a large person, but also self-conscious about swaying my hips and “jutting” in bizarre intervals.

My friends insisted that I looked great. They did this because they wanted to go to the club, and I had the car to get us there.

We selected to wear some fancy clothes–at least by the standards of our home town of fifteen hundred people. We arrived at the club, and I came in with the confidence of the Titanic. I mean the Titanic when it started its trip.

I began dancing and soon all those around me stopped to watch me do the cha-cha with this tiny young girl with auburn hair. I thought they were viewing because I was good, but actually they were stunned by the sight of such a portly fellow trying to do such tiny steps.

They laughed.

Is it necessary for me to say that no one likes to be laughed at? Yet running out of the room crying was not an option. Raining down fire from heaven ala “Carrie” was not available. But I got my revenge.

I just kept dancing.

After awhile, people got tired of staring, started moving themselves, and in no time at all, I was ignored.

There’s a lesson in there somewhere. Maybe you can dig it out. Here’s a clue:

It’ll have something to do with “keep dancing.”



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