"I carried a watermelon"

It was like being at that camp in the Catskills. Except we were in Cranston, in an underheated second-floor dance studio decorated with Christmas lights, and there were no Jewish people.

Instead of Patrick Swayze, we had (what Pat realized was) a Dave Barry lookalike. Instead of Jennifer Grey, we had Laura, a curvacious twenty-to-thirty-something brunette in cargo pants and three-inch heels.

And we were there to learn the hustle.

A few months ago, I signed us up for ballroom dance lessons through our local adult education program. Eight weekly group classes in an elementary school cafetori-gymnasium later, we are surprisingly proficient in waltz, swing, cha-cha, and foxtrot. Our dance teacher told us about this ballroom dance party, and a few other couples from the class said they'd go, so I figured this would be a good chance to check out the goofy - I mean local - ballroom dance scene.

The people there were pretty kooky. The players included:

• Louis: the aforementioned Dave Barry-like instructor. Wild print rayon shirt with collar. Kept calling our dance instructor (who was also there) by an old nickname.
• Laura: stationed at the front table to collect admission. Later proved to cut a mean tango rug.
• Bill and Danielle: comfortingly normal young couple from our dance class. They're 32 and 34 and have two kids. She's blonde and looks slightly pregnant (unconfirmed). He's a redhead who likes to take giant steps when foxtrotting or waltzing; also has sweaty hands.
• Conn and Molly: another relatively young couple from our dance class. Just got married last week. She's got shorter brown hair with tortoise-frame geek-nouveau glasses. He's a tall, balding redhead who likes to bounce while dancing.
• Deb: our adult ed dance instructor. Makes the most wonderful attitude-laden expressions while dancing. Apparently also known as "Danielle" in some circles. Typically wears black shirts (two), flowing wide-leg pants and New Balance sneakers.
• Older Woman #1: from our adult ed class. I never learned her name. Hires babysitters for her schnauzers when she goes out. Insists on Butterball turkey for Thanksgiving.
• Amos: the first new guy I had to dance with (during the instruction hour). A cross between Dustin Hoffman and the host of Survivor.
• "Lurch": tall, with bulbous eyes and little rhythm.
• Older Man #1: probably in his 70s. Already knew how to hustle, and had gentle suggestions for my improvement. Recommended ballroom as a way to make new friends.
• "Tony": fancied himself a dancer (or dance instructor). 5'3". Combed-back hair. Bright blue button-down shirt - open to white v-neck t-shirt, with one gold chain inside blue shirt, and one outside blue shirt. Had lots of criticism, but no talent. Wanted "more tension" -- he did not, however, resort to calling me "spaghetti arms."
• Random middle-aged women: came as a group. Showed up late. Seemed to be doing more cruising than dancing. Lots of very taut faces and pink lipstick.
• Closed-eyes woman and Asian guy: she had a lovely 1980s print brown dress and liked to dance with her eyes closed. He was dressed in business casual.
• "Penny" and "Johnny": clearly professionals. She had a fringed leather skirt, and giant teased blonde hair. He had a bowling shirt, wingtip shoes, and a thin mustache. They danced fast circles around the rest of us.
• Various other people, most of whom had done this before.

The lesson was for the first hour. Lots of switching partners (like every 30 seconds). I really wanted my hand sanitizer, but I made it through. Music for the hustle lesson was courtesy of Ace of Base. Oh, yeeaaaah.

Then Louis, our host and hustle instructor, played various songs ranging from odd-style versions of familiar songs, to Sinatra (primarily fox-trot), to Pink (which, unrealized by me before that night, can be cha-cha'd to), to "Gettin Jiggy Wit It" (definitely a hustle). There was also complimentary party food - wine, soda, cheese, crackers, veggies, and Doritos. It was most excellent.

We held our own. We weren't afraid to be the only ones on the dancefloor with "Penny" and "Johnny". We knew we looked silly, and we didn't care. Sure, we had to vacate the dancefloor for the mamboes and the salsas and the tangoes, but we had fun dancing and, more importantly, goofing on the other people who were dancing.

Because that's what it's all about.

"Would ya just watch the hair. Ya know, I spend a long time on my hair and he hit it; he hit my hair. "

Yeah.