The previous Saturday I simply did not have enough courage to go back to Mr. Hall's class. The combinations are not lengthy, complex or mind boggling. They are simple, exact and precise. But the master leading the practice by sheer force of will sucks the air from the room. This is probably why no one breathes in class.
As I waffle back and forth about going this past Saturday, Side Bar and Menty kick in:
Side Bar: We don't have to go.
Menty: But he said he expects us.
Side Bar: He didn't mean EVERY SATURDAY
Menty: But we missed last Saturday
Side Bar: He doesn't even know our name
Menty: Maybe, Maybe not - but we definitely KNOW WHEN HE IS TALKING TO US!!
I pack my shoes, towel, water and ass and go to class.
MDB is there and Miss M is suppose to be staying too, but she has to go. She promises next Saturday, but I won't be there.
MDB is back at the barre at the center of the floor - but she's in pointe shoes.
Side Bar: Are those pointe shoes?
Menty: RUN! RUN! RUN!
"Ummmm...I'm going to stand over here." I mumble and run to the closest barre AWAY from her. She is hardly alone though - one of the ladies from first company joins her - also in pointe shoes. And lastly a guy joins the ladies in pointe shoes.
Side Bar: Can he do that? Wear pointe shoes? I thought pointe shoes were for ballerinas?
Menty: He better - he's in them and Mr. Hall is here now....
We all turn to face the barre as Mr. Hall gets situated on his stool. And then I endure the hardest 16 plies of my short little ballet life. Between the plies, forced arch plie, forced arch releve, and lengthening to lower....Menty and Side Bar join in:
Menty: Breathe! Breathe!
Side Bar: Die! Die!
Menty: How rude?
Within 16 plies, I'm pouring sweat and ready to go home now. Of course, I don't. We move into the tendu combination - it is simple, exact, and precise. I manage not to screw it up too bad until Mr. Hall comes to adjust my arm.
Side Bar: He's fixing my arm.
Menty: Should we stop moving our feet?
Physie: Ummm...they already stopped.
Menty: What do we DO??
Side Bar: Oh hell.....
Menty, Physie, Side Bar: Blink, Breathe, Blink
Mr. Hall tells me, "Not bad, not bad. Now let me see your tendu to the back again."
I do it. "Drop the heel." Mr. Hall says from his stool, "now close."
I try, I fail - "Do it again - drop the heel." I try, I fail three more times.
Side Bar: If he gets off that stool and heads in this direction - let's run out the door.
Menty: I was going to say squeal like a little girl, but that's WAY BETTER!
Physie: DEAL!
Mr. Hall doesn't get off the stool. I don't squeal or run away. I finally get it right or at least to his satisfaction. We move into degages, rond de jambs, and battements - all the combinations are simple, exact, and precise. Unfortunately, I am not. Thankfully, Mr. Hall is busy yanking and pulling on the people in pointe shoes (including MDB).
We move into the floor combinations and some how I end up in the center of the row, center of the room, with no one in front of me....
Menty: HEY!!!
Side Bar: Oh hell...
Menty and Side Bar: Blink, Breathe, Blink
I manage to only mildly embarrass myself. Then we move to the traveling floor combination - which involves holding three people - the center person piques onto releve with one leg in attitude arabesque and then panache (tip forward) come back up to attitude and then take three steps and repeat.
Side Bar: They are going to drop me on my face. I have at least 50 lbs on the next person that's even CLOSE TO MY DAMN HEIGHT!!
Menty: Run for it?
Side Bar: Mr. Hall AND MDB are too close to the doors.
Menty: Squeal like a little girl?
Side Bar: I don't think that will help.
Menty: Suck it up?
Side Bar: Yup....
I don't get dropped on my face, I don't drop anyone on their face and thankfully the longest 90 minutes of my life on Sunday has passed in sweaty, comedic concentration! And Blink, Breathe, Blink.
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