Last week I spotted a dance school across the street from my new apartment. Having danced for 13 odd years, and missing it desperately, I decided to take a peek inside. As I stepped into the building I was immediately transported to the 60s. The dance school has been around for years, and clearly hasn’t had a facelift in decades. At first I thought maybe I had read the sign incorrectly, as I attempted to peer through the thick cigar smoke. Was I in yet another smoky Dutch pub?? Nope, this was indeed a dance school. Past the counter, kegs of Heineken and bars stools, couples were spinning away.
I learnt from the owner and namesake of the school, that they held an advanced tap class on Saturday mornings. Having taken tap for a few years, I decided to come take a look at the class and see what it was about.
Saturday morning I dragged my butt out of bed and headed across the street. After being directed to the tap class, I immediately realized what I had got myself into. The tap teacher was in her sixities—and had that very typical look of an aged Broadway star—full stage make up and hair at 9am on a Saturday morning! Having become accustomed to the Dutch gruffness I wasn’t at all put off when the first thing she barked at me was “We are all ex- professional tap stars here. I won’t be slowing down this class for anyone! If you can’t keep up with us, then this class is clearly not for you—which I believe is the case!” Hmmm....I wasn’t expecting a warm welcoming, but it was too early in the morning for insults! Did I mention that by “us” she was referring to the two, yes 2, other people in the class. A 75 year old man, and a woman in her mid fifties. Yes, I’d say the combined age was close to 200 years old!
The teacher told me to sit at the front of the class, and continued muttering that this wasn’t a class for me. I felt like leaving, but was now curious to see this motley crew was made of. As the music started I was more than impressed---could these folks ever dance!! After about 15 minutes the teacher left the room and came back with a pair of tap shoes in her hands. As I saw her marching towards me I prayed they weren’t for me. She shoved them in my hands, and said “so, show us if you can dance”. Clearly there was no way out of this one.
I put on the shoes, and did a couple of shuffles. It had literally been close to a decade since I had done tap, and I started to panic and scanned for the nearest exit. Could I make it to the door in time?
“Do a time step” she shouted over the music. I did, and she nodded. “Now, a double time step”. “Now a triple!”
She nodded, thought for a minute, and then said “Do this” and broke into step. I quickly attempted to imitate her steps. “Now this!” tap tap tap tap “And this.” tap tap tap tapp tapp.
Suddenly I was having an odd sort of “dance off” in the middle of Amsterdam,in an odd pub/school with an ex dancing queen. After a few more requests she abruptly stopped. “Well, she said—you can join the class, stand with the others”. Apparently I had passed her test. She nodded in approval, the older man winked, and I spent the next hour and a half tapping away, and having a great time! Until next week....
