I had a chance to test my line dancing skills Saturday night. Some friends invited me to a St. Valentine’s dance in Chinatown at Le Cristal Chinois restaurant which included a ten course meal. It’s a toss-up as to which appealed to me the most, the supper or the dance, so I brought both my dancing shoes and my appetite. The only requirement was everyone had to wear something red or pink.
The dance floor was already full when I arrived at 5:30. At the front of the sea of red was the instructor dressed in an outfit of black sequins and gold heels. With a microphone in one hand, she called out the steps over the beat of the golden oldies. It was obvious that most of the people were seasoned line dancers and most likely, students in her class. There were only a handful of men present. A few of them assumed the job of guarding the belongings at the table while the women tore up the dance floor. The evening was a family affair with ages ranging from teenagers to retirees in their eighties, but I discovered it was mainly a girls’ night out as most of the women had left their husbands at home so they could dance the night away. Continue reading