Dizzy Death

Last night, I learned why it's called 'country swing'.
In the very worst possible way.

Lacy-Hacy, Gem and I headed up for a night of twangy yee-hawin' at Studio 600 in SLC. We were giddy to escape the 'usuals' we've endured at The Center every Wednesday night for the past three months. Many so notorious that they've been nicknamed.

For instance, should you ever feel the need to submit yourself to the torture that is line dancing, I suggest you steer clear of 'Stinky' and 'Deputy'. Why? Well, Stinky's pretty self-explanatory and Deputy, he's a spittle spewer.

In any event, we arrived.

What you must know: I am no dancer. In any sense of the word.
In my mind, dancing is equivalent to running.

And I never run. Unless I'm being chased by a bear.

The problem? My legs don't move as fast as my mind thinks they can. It doesn't end well.

But back to my story.

I immediately plopped down on one of the chairs lining the walls, content to play with my new android smartphone the entire evening.

But if you've ever been country dancing, (poor shmuck) you know that (no matter how hard you might try) you WILL be asked to dance. Forcibly removed from your seat and planted in the center of the dance floor if you're at all resistant.

So naturally, I did everything in my power to look uninterested.
It didn't help.

After a few dances with Franz, the ever charismatic Peruvian, a mammoth of a fella towered over me, hand outstretched.

"Come on, girly.", he boomed.

Before I could think twice, he had pulled me to the center of the floor. And let me tell you, the guy was a madman. Flinging and twirling and spinning and flipping, I had no idea what was happening.

I must have been doing something right because at several points he leaned back his head and let out a resounding 'HOO!'. Not the owl type (*hoo, hoo*). I'm talking a 'everyone in the building/surrounding area would have heard that' beller.

Why? I'm not sure. I try not to question beefy men when they've got my life in their hands.

By the time I staggered back to my seat, Lacy-Hacy, Gem and Franz were applauding.

"Did you see what he just did?!", I gasped hoarsely.

They nodded back enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear.

Their reaction wasn't at all a surprise. In the past I been known to stubbornly stick to my rule of 'no dips, no flips, no tricks'. But somehow, I'd been caught off guard.

By the time I had caught my breath and Gem and Lacy-Hacy had taken their turns with the 'one-man-wonder-ride-o-fun', he was back for round two.

I wasn't sure my nerves could take it.

Thinking myself prepared for what would come next, I confidently sauntered away. But boy, was I in for a surprise.

Instead of slowly dropping me into the familiar dips I was so fully expecting, hand securely supporting my neck, he picked me up and starting throwing me around a like a rag-doll.

Instantly, my brain realized that this just would not do.
The centrifugal force caused my headband to shoot across the room while my insides began to scramble. I began to very seriously understand that if he didn't put me down soon, I was going to hurl.

The closest thing I can compare it to is a carnival ride.
You know, the kind where you scream 'til you can't possibly scream anymore and plead for death to come quickly?

It seemed like an eternity before he finally put me back down.

Feeling very much as though I was still being twirled like a baton, I teetered slightly and slumped to the floor.

I'm surprised someone didn't yell 'timber'.

"You okay?", he questioned nervously.

It took every fiber of my being to orient my head and convince it to look upward.

"I think so?", I replied to all seven of him.

Either he pulled me to my feet or gravity was no longer a universal law, because somehow I was standing again.

"That ain't happening.", my legs told me as they turned to Jell-O.

"I think I'd better sit down.", I decided as I staggered back and forth like a drunken sailor.

Helping me back to my seat, he made a quick retreat to his corner, tail between his legs.

I'm not exactly sure all what happened next but I was coherent enough to recognize Lacy-Hacy's distinct laughter and Gem looking very concerned.

Wondering why people were dancing on the ceiling, I decided that my best bet would be to put my head between my legs. It seemed to work in the movies.

"Is she okay??", my assailant returned to question concernedly, my body gone limp.

"I think so...", Gem responded, flopping my head onto her shoulder.

"I'll be fine." I slurred, "Just make the room stop spinning."

And that, my friends, is how I gracefully exited the world of country swing. At least for the evening.

I had learned an important lesson.
One that I would not soon forget.

Namely, next time, I'm bringing Dramamine.