So...that Irish dance class I started taking? Taught by a seventy-something woman who Knows Her Shit, and is also The Shit in the Greater Bay Area Irish dancing community?
It may be leading to something which I had sort of vaguely imagined it might, but hadn't completely thought through...
I've had four classes, right? I've learned three out of the four soft shoe dances you're required to learn. Apparently this is Not Normal. Thanks to my extensive dance background, I'm well ahead of the curve. At this rate, I expect I'll be up to snuff on all the required material--soft and hard shoe--and starting to put together my own steps, which is what you do once you've got a grasp of the basics. And after that, well, Irish dance is heavy on the festivals and competitions.
In fact, as we were doing some technique exercises across the floor last week, our instructor, who I will from now on refer to as 'The Business', or 'The Biz', was lecturing on all the things the judges look for in competition. Turnout. Pointed toes. Crossover. A high demi-pointe. Straight legs. This entire lecture was delivered with her eyes on me. Then she launched into her 'competition is your choice' spiel, eyes still glued to me. As we were leaving that night, she very slyly mentioned that there was a feis (pronounced 'fehsh', a traditional Gaelic arts and culture festival) on Saturday and perhaps I'd like to come along and see what it's all about.
I speak fluent dance instructor. I know exactly what the woman is thinking. She wants me competing.
I did, in fact, go along to the feis on Saturday to see what it was all about. It was held at the Irish Cultural Center in San Francisco. I braved public transportation for the first time in well over a year because I really don't like driving in the city, and once you've driven there, you still have to park, which can be a real pain in the you-know-what. It was a good time, really. Live music for the dancing competition. An interesting building full of neat cultural stuff I didn't really have time to look at because I was watching the dancing. A shop full of lovely treats that are more difficult to come by here than they were when I lived in the UK. A few of my classmates were competing, and I found them quickly enough so I had people to hang out with. It's always nice to support your people! I found The Biz, too, and made sure she knew I was there. (Hey, a little brown-nosery will get you a long way.) It was a good time. Two of my classmates--sisters, as it happens--placed fourth and third in the adult division.
Now, given the time and a decent amount of practice, I find I'm not entirely opposed to the competition idea. (Especially since I found out that the adult division doesn't require those ghastly dresses and wigs!) It might be a giggle.
And somehow, I think The Biz won't halt her not-so-subliminal messaging campaign until I give in.
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