Jan 2, 2018 3 min read

Hey, that’s B.B. King playing!

Turns out you can dance to “The Thrill Is Gone” by doing the West Coast Swing. Don’t get distracted by singing along, though. You might lose count in the middle of your triple steps.

I’ve been putting the “you’re never too old to learn” theory to the test by taking ballroom dance lessons, size-14 shoes and all. I’d compare myself to Frankenstein’s monster out there on the floor, but my terpsichorean partner, Mrs. Funk, is infinitely better-looking than his Bride.

Tammy always has enjoyed dancing. I have not. Blame it “Saturday Night Fever” and the disco craze: I identified with the Vinnie Barbarino version of John Travolta rather than the one boogieing to “Stayin’ Alive.”

Actually, I vaguely recall participating in some group lessons in my hometown of Harrisburg. But that was back around the time the Beatles still were in business, and the only thing I learned that sort of stuck with me was the sense to not step on my partner’s feet when I mustered the courage to ask them onto the floor in junior high.

Either way, the ’70s are long gone, and I’m ready to get down, so to speak.

Our instructor at Arthur Murray Dance Studio in Peters Township, fellow Central Pennsylvania native Kiana Stephens, started us with the foxtrot, which I discovered is named after a guy named Fox and not the gait of a pointy-eared mammal.

The style involves a series of steps that, if executed properly, take the dancers in a relatively tight square trajectory back to where they started. And proper execution involves a side step that, at the man’s lead – hey, someone made these rules up a long time ago – turns the couple at a 90-degree angle.

It’s trickier than it sounds, at least for me.

Next on Kiana’s list was the jitterbug, which is named after … well, no one seems to know, really, but Cab Calloway had a hit song to that effect in the ’30s. This one gave me a bit of trouble with its basic “step, step, rock-step” sequence, especially considering that the latter involves extending a leg backward. Coordination never was my strong suit.

The lady of the pair has the real challenge: doing a twirl in mid-dance, both directions. All we guys have to do is hold our left arms up high enough to provide ample clearance.

Again, not my idea.

Following Kiana’s fantastic job of teaching us, we moved to the next room for group instruction in the aforementioned West Coast Swing, which is a slower-tempo, cool-jazzier version of the East Coast Swing and also is related to the jitterbug, according to the late Arthur Murray himself.

All I know is I kept leading Mrs. Funk to the left during our triple steps and almost crowding the couple next to us into the wall. Sorry, folks.

But all in all, we had a tremendous time, with some good exercise, to boot. Kind of makes me wish I’d given the discos a try in the ’70s.

If only they’d played B.B. King.