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If there's one thing
that I really suck at (and I suck at a lot), it would be organized
dancing. Now, I can bust off the running man, the running man with
the double hand wave, and even the Kid 'n' Play if I'm really feeling
it, but anything like swing dancing or the fox trot just gets my boxers
all in a twist. I proved this at my wedding, where the well-intentioned
Ms. Hipster decided it would be fun to have the whole wedding party
take swing lessons and then come out to the reception and go straight
into a big swing dancing display. I can't say the giant white dress
didn't hinder my steps just a little, but I was lost after about three
seconds of twirling and stepping. "Fuck it," my brain said. It's the
same reason I couldn't play organized football, with all of its choreographed
patterns and blocking schemes (and the fact that I'm built more like
Arnold Drummond than Arnold Schwarzenegger). That said, I was a little
nervous walking into Swing 46. I was afraid I'd order a beer and be
swept up in some impromptu Fame nonsense. Turns out it we
were the only patrons in the place, save one zoot-suited German dude
who, oddly enough, was a customer and not, like the similarly dressed
bartender, an employee. I was still a little suspicious that our attempt
at killing some time prior to our Becco
reservations would still turn into some sort of fumbling nightmare
that would leave Ms. Hipster with a broken neck and me a life sentence
all because I was asked to execute some sort of lift and twirl maneuver
that proved beyond my meager abilities. The choice to enter this joint
in the first place was Hipster Father-in-Law's, as the man just can't
resist anything that speaks of jazz and/or big band. Looking out from
the bar to the larger performance space beyond, it was definitely
set up for some sort of crazy dance-a-thon with a live band and little
tables that reminded me of one of those 1940's movies where everyone
dressed so cool, and there wasn't a pair of those retarded Crocs anywhere.
It turns out they do have dance classes and live performances and
a pretty full schedule of acts that, if I knew anything about trumpet
players and/or jazz, is apparently pretty good. As it stood, my beer
was not only cold, but also a happy hour two-for-one that left me
doubly happy. The bartender and his German/Swedish friend were appropriately
besuited and historically accurate, as was the place's dÃcor. Ah,
I'm sure Swing 46 could be a pretty good time if I were into the whole
jazz and swing thing, but as it was, I was more into the beerr and
baffled by the weird European who apparently just wanted to hang in
a place that didn't make his outfit look quite so goofy. [MF]
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