I tried again in college, where I perceived minds to be a bit more accepting, but ended up in a jazz class that was taught by a professional tuba player. That's right, you heard me. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. The regular jazz teacher was out on disability, so they hired a substitute who "liked to dance" but was more focused on her tuba career. In all fairness, she did have a background in dance. There I was, one of only two guys in the class (the other guy insisted on wearing a full-body unitard through the whole course even though the teacher kept insisting this was not really appropriate jazz attire). The class wasn't that fun and not taught very well. I again decided I wasn't going to go any further.
Well, fast forward about 20+ years and countless seasons of Dancing With the Stars and So You Think You Can Dance and here I am, starting my fourth month of study at the Joffrey Ballet School here in NYC. That's right, I threw caution to the wind, grabbed my dance belt and headed off to dance class once again. It's been quite exhilarating and has revived the old feelings of how much I love dance. I'm still one of only a few men in the class, but I really don't care. I'm just enjoying myself. And there has only been one major mix up where, at the end of my first class, the teacher instructed us to curtsey to the piano player. Being the obedient and over-eager student although feeling a little strange, I assumed the pose. That's when the teacher started yelling, "Not the men! Not the men!" It was a damn good curtsey though, I must admit.
So where's the smash-hit movie and musical about MY life?