I was actually pretty relaxed through that whole first lesson, bending my knees, putting my foot down toe first—you know that basic stuff that we dancers do.
I think the fear hit me for the first time when I opened the door to that little shop. As it closed behind me, I could see a little girl in her new pair of shoes, with taps, showing mommy how she could make noise with her feet. I could see the displays with leotards, and leggings, and the other stuff that dancers, young and old, need to be dancers.
I didn't see too much merchandise a guy my age could use, so I kept my glance downward. I could see a dad reaching into his wallet as his teenage daughter with braces smiled that special smile that only daughters have for their fathers, and the clerk made a joke about today not 'costing $200.'
I thought of my brother, who must have been in shops like this, with a wallet like that, probably dozens of times with his two daughters who had been dancers since learning to walk.
Without my own daughters, it was a slice of life that had escaped me. Without any interest in dancing, it was a slice of life I never wondered about. Now, I was faced with the cold hard reality that I was in Capezio's Dance Theater Shop with a 10% discount card I had snagged at Arthur Murray's Dance Studio.
It all happened so fast I could scarcely believe that I was a preferred shopper at a store that specialized in dancer supplies!
That was when the fear hit me and it hit me pretty hard.
I knew, for certain, in that place and time, that I was completely out of my league, that I had no business being involved, that I was going to make a complete fool of myself, and that I really didn't want to spend a hundred bucks on "male ballroom dancing shoes."
Yep, if I was quick I could sneak out of that place and get back to the car...too late. "Can I help you sir?" the owner inquired while fitting an eight-year-old with some ballet shoes. "If my friends could see me now!" was all I was thinking.
So, in short order, there I was sitting on the bench next to a future ballerina wondering if there was a market for gently used "male ballroom dancing shoes." All I could think about was how I could unload the shoes I hadn't even bought yet when the event was over.
That was when the second wave of fear hit me. I trembled as I tried the shoes on, I was shaking as I paid, and in a trembling voice I indicated I didn't need a bag, I was good to go.
As I walked past the leotards and special socks that stood between me and the door, clutching my very first pair of male ballroom dancing shoes, I told myself I had nothing to fear but fear itself. But that thought changed to the thought that I actually had a lot more to fear than fear itself.
I was sneaking into a new world--like landing on a different planet. These dance people were serious! I had just been shopping in Capezio's—a real shocker! I was a pretender and everyone would soon see through my charade.
Could I actually be a dancer in 30 days? How long did it take us to get to the moon? I briefly contemplated faking an injury, just like you would in my situation. By the time I reached the car, I had decided that if, or since, I was going to do it, I would at least do it with enough energy and effort to.... surprise.
That became my goal, born out of fear: to surprise.
"Surprising" is a lot different from "Excelling", I agree, but maybe not. If I go through this and do-something-no-one-thought-I-could-do, in a way no-one-thought-I-could-do it, that's sort of like excelling isn't it? Nah, I didn't think so either.
