I’m the first to admit there was a slight sense of trepidation in our steps as we walked up the stairs of the venue of Cleveland Street offering Dance Classes.
Minutes earlier a colleague had told me she had gone to dance classes twenty years earlier, and often overcome with nervousness, never made it into the class all that often, choosing instead to remain outside in her car.
A colleague suggested we go along to an after-work dance class several weeks ago, with the twin goals of fitness and fun in mind.
As we argued for several weeks over which class suited us best, the final consensus ended up with Monday and a decision to undertake the Hip Hop Class.
Although four of us had agreed to attend, only three turned up.
But what great fun we had.
As we walked into the already warmed-up class, we found ourselves a space towards the back of the class and began to follow our instructor, a young bloke called Masaki, who was probably about twenty five years old.
Being a little bit older (ok, a lot older), the three of us found it a little difficult to keep our feet firmly on the floor, as appears to be the custom for hip-hop dancing.
“I found the twirl the hardest bit”, said one of my colleagues.
As the hour progressed the dance routine became increasingly complex. But somehow – goodness knows how – we managed to end up being able to perform a basic hip-hop routine.
I’m sure the instructor must have had to stifle a grin or two as he looked at the three old people in the back row who were slightly behind everyone else.
That said, there was a young bloke not far from me who was completely un-co.
But the great thing about this class was that it wasn’t about judging who was good and who wasn’t. It was just loads of fun, the music was surprisingly good, and there was a genuine joie de vivre in the class. $16 for an hour was great value, we all thought.
The music was also really good, though I was a little disappointed they failed to play my current favourite “We Made You” by Eminem. Yes, seriously… it’s a GREAT song.
As we walked out of the class, gulping down water, we looked at the dance schedule for the next few weeks.
“The Bollywood Class looks like fun”, we all agreed.
But then, as we walked towards the stairs, we noticed to our right the Hip Hop/Funk Beginner class which had just started. They were dancing to a Michael Jackson song.
“I like songs with words”, a colleague commented. And we also noted the class was maybe a little older, and moving a little more in the dance style to which we all were accustomed.
“OK, let’s do that”, we all agreed. And even though one of us has a young child at home, we agreed we could work our schedules for a 6.30 class next week.
I can’t wait.
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