A group of 60 year-old women who are members of a book club decide to ditch their novels for tap dancing lessons. Tonight is the year-end recital, open to the public.
This is not exactly how I pictured my debut as a choreographer. But if I can make a floundering group of beached whales look good in tap shoes, that must count for something….right?
It all started with Sesame Street – it was a crucial show in my formative years. Not only did I learn how to count and read two-syllable words, but I also found my life’s work. The first time I saw Savion Glover tapping to the beat, I begged my mom to take me out for a shiny pair of those clicky shoes. Finally, I didn’t have to sneak into mom’s walk-in closet to pilfer a pair of patent pumps when I wanted to satisfy my burgeoning shoe fetish…I had a pair of my own! And it was socially acceptable!
Everyone at school agreed that Savion was hot shit, and once I learned a few of his tricks, all the little chicks on the playground flocked to me. I loved having an audience, of course. But why wasn’t I interested? Probably the same reason I found myself obsessed with Bert and Ernie and their male version of domesticity.
OK, time to breathe some life into these hippos. “Ladies! Don’t forget our deal – if you get a standing ovation I’m taking everyone to Arby’s after the shoooow!” You would not believe how these women will start hooting and hollering when they hear the word “curly fries.” Obviously I don’t eat any of that shit – especially the roast beef! – but I’ll be damned if I let these bitches embarrass me.
Well who is this fine piece of meat wandering around backstage? “Grandma, I ran home and got your medicine just in case you need it – I’ll leave it right here in your purse, okay?” So he’s thoughtful too. Now he’s bending over to drop the pills in Granny’s handbag, showing off those tight buns. Have I finally found the Bert to my Ernie?
“Scottie, you must meet our fabulous choreographer! Johnnie, this is my grandson, he is a Junior at Georgetown.”
Hmm, a little young…but not younger than T.R. Knight’s new boyfriend.
“So nice to meet you Scottie. But I have to ask you to shuffle back to your seat. The show’s about to start and I don’t want you to miss a single kick ball change.” Dammit, why do I always sound like such a fag when I talk about tap dancing?
