An Unlikely First Place

In last week's discussion of how to be interesting, one of the suggestions was to "have three good stories to tell." I mentioned one of my own good stories, which involved a mishap at a dance competition ... and, sure enough, Peg wanted to hear the whole story. It's actually better if it's told in person, but I'll give it a try ...

Some years ago, Agnes and I were participating in the annual Inter-City Amateur Dance Challenge*, along with a bazillion or so other dancers from around the Northeast. We'd gone through several heats already, and we ready to dance our tango routine ...

If you've never been to a ballroom dance competition, you need to know that a typical heat only lasts about 90 seconds or less ... just long enough for the judges to quickly evaluate and score the couples on the floor. For this reason, the average competitive routine is designed to pack the maximum amount of material (required steps and show-off patterns) into a 45- to 90-second package, and if the music is still playing when your routine is done, you simply blend back to the beginning and keep going. An average amateur dancer might compete in 20 or more heats representing the various dances and skill levels, so there are always a lot of routines to keep sorted out in one's head.

Okay, on with the story ...

Even if I say so myself, our tango routine was awesome. My teacher and Agnes had choreographed a dramatic and complicated routine that was a proven crowd-pleaser and we were pumped and ready to go. We waited in the on-deck chute and, when our heat was called, took our places proudly on the floor, ready to give it our best. The announcer read out the competitors' numbers, the judges checked their score sheets to make sure the right people were on the floor, the music started ... and we were off!

The music we got (you never know what specific piece of music will be played - only that it will be at the prescribed tempo for your age group and competitive level) was great, and our routine went flawlessly. Our friends in the audience were all cheering and screaming out our number as we sailed around the first three sides of the floor ... and then we ran out of routine and the music was still playing! So we did as I'd been trained and blended back into the opening sequence of our routine, which was a series of tight, fast Viennese-style turns that whirled down the floor to end in a dramatic contra check ... something like this ...

Well, we had made the turn onto the fourth (short) side of the rectangular floor, and were whirling through those Viennese turns straight toward the announcer - whose position was just off that corner of the floor, with a judge standing right in front of him. We were about halfway through the turn sequence when my heel caught on a ridge where two sections of the prefabricated dance floor had been bolted together, but not hammered down flat ...

... and you can probably guess the rest.

When my heel caught that seam I lost my footing, and the combination of forward momentum and fast rotation ensured that we were going to go down in spectacular fashion. I realized I couldn't save the situation, so I tried to twist as we fell so that Agnes would fall on top of me ... and we hit the floor in a great cloud of tango dress as a collective gasp went up from the crowd.

We lay there for a moment waiting for other dancers to pass, and then quickly scrambled back to our feet, went back into dance hold, and started the sequence again (there being nothing worse than not trying to recover unless you have a compound fracture). We were about halfway through the Viennese turns again when the music stopped, signaling the end of the heat. We took our bow and walked off the floor to a round of sympathetic applause, completely uninjured except for fractured dignity and bruised egos.

Now, fast-forward about a half-hour or so to the awards ceremony at the end of that segment of the competition.

We joined all the other couples who had danced in that section of heats in a great semicircle on the dance floor to await the announcer's rundown of the results. Three of the judges stood before us, holding the First, Second, and Third Place ribbons to be awarded as the announcer began to call out the scores. As each heat was announced, the first, second, and third-place finishers walked forward and received their ribbons to the loud applause of the crowd. Soon, it was time for our ill-fated heat ...

"Heat number one-four-seven, American Gold Tango: first place to Bilbo and Agnes!"

How 'bout them apples?, as my dad would have said.

It turned out that the judges had already finished scoring our heat and had turned their completed score sheets for tabulation before we took our tumble, and the music director was just letting the heat music play out!

And that, Dear Readers, is the story of how Bilbo and Agnes took first place in a competitive dance heat in which we actually fell down right in front of a judge and an entire ballroom full of people. Looking back on it, it was probably not a bad thing: an embarrassing fall like that teaches humility. And besides that, once you've actually fallen down in front of a large audience ... what's the worst that can happen? It gives you perspective.

Agnes and I pose at the corner where we took our famous dive. I was thinner, then, and still had brown hair. 

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

* It's now called the Washington Open Dance Sport Competition, organized by our friends Dan and Silke Calloway, and it's being held this weekend. No, we're not competing this year.