Learning to Line Dance at the VFW Hall

My wife signed us up for line dancing lessons at the VFW hall for our anniversary. I'm not a dancer. I'm a man who thinks the electric slide is advanced.

The teacher was a seventy-five-year-old woman named Bev in a sequined cowboy hat who shouted instructions with the authority of a drill sergeant. "Grapevine left! Kick ball change! Smile, dammit, you're dancing!"

There were about thirty of us: retired couples, a group of nurses, a young dad who brought his daughters, and a very enthusiastic man in his eighties who knew every dance already and kept doing extra spins.

I stepped on my wife's foot four times. She laughed every time. By the end of the six weeks, we could do the "Boot Scootin' Boogie" all the way through. We've been back every Wednesday since. I'm still not a dancer. But I love those Wednesday nights.