Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Dance Fever
I somehow forgot to report on my sister's dance recital this past Saturday morning. A terrible omission if ever there was one. The whole affair went down in a high school auditorium, which as everyone knows is the birthplace of almost every significant artistic achievement in the history of man. It started out with a number performed by the teachers, which I honestly thought at first was another adult dance class that hadn't really rehearsed all that much. Then things segued into a series of awkward speeches, which I videotaped right up until the point when they told us videotaping was not allowed. The rest of the first act then became a contest between the man two rows in front of me who was pretending not to have heard that warning and the crew of six red-vested ushers who kept forcefully whispering at him. Eventually, he broke down.
Speaking of which, the second number -- the ballet -- was about an hour long. I really thought I might cry. It told the story of a bunch of people at a restaurant in Paris, some of whom appeared to be whores, who got in a fight and then stopped being in a fight. Really, it's the same story since time began. The most notable feature was the male dancers, who for the most part seemed to want to be anywhere else, and who on closer inspection of the program were found to be the spouses and/or siblings of the dance instructors for the studio. And let us all thank god now that we are not related to dance instructors.
Anyway, the main event. The ladies were sassy, they were sexy, and they tapped their little hearts out. (Which can be very painful.) It was three minutes of pure joy.
I somehow forgot to report on my sister's dance recital this past Saturday morning. A terrible omission if ever there was one. The whole affair went down in a high school auditorium, which as everyone knows is the birthplace of almost every significant artistic achievement in the history of man. It started out with a number performed by the teachers, which I honestly thought at first was another adult dance class that hadn't really rehearsed all that much. Then things segued into a series of awkward speeches, which I videotaped right up until the point when they told us videotaping was not allowed. The rest of the first act then became a contest between the man two rows in front of me who was pretending not to have heard that warning and the crew of six red-vested ushers who kept forcefully whispering at him. Eventually, he broke down.
Speaking of which, the second number -- the ballet -- was about an hour long. I really thought I might cry. It told the story of a bunch of people at a restaurant in Paris, some of whom appeared to be whores, who got in a fight and then stopped being in a fight. Really, it's the same story since time began. The most notable feature was the male dancers, who for the most part seemed to want to be anywhere else, and who on closer inspection of the program were found to be the spouses and/or siblings of the dance instructors for the studio. And let us all thank god now that we are not related to dance instructors.
Anyway, the main event. The ladies were sassy, they were sexy, and they tapped their little hearts out. (Which can be very painful.) It was three minutes of pure joy.
