Sometime in April, I bought tickets for a November 11th performance of "Billy Elliot" at DPAC.
And then forgot about it.
Until November 10th, when I was en route from CHM to RDU. I was actually going to be in town that night but going to the show was competing with completing employee evals (due on the 12th), unpacking, and ironically, actually going out to Hot Club for swing dancing. Fortunately, a co-worker talked some sense to me and I went.
I had seen the movie, but I really only knew this was a show about a dancing boy (compare that to "Wicked" when I was doing everything I could not to sing along or jump on stage and join in during "Popular").
I thought I was following the story fairly well until a man came out wearing all black and a headset and just stood there. I just couldn't reconcile that moment with anything that preceded it. Then, an announcement was made that there was a technical difficulty and there would be a temporary intermission. Very surreal. If it was a ploy to sell more concessions, I fell for it. I fell for it twice because I got a double shot of vodka with cranberry juice. I was very entertained that the drink was served in a grown up sippy cup.
I also fell for the show. In the past few months, swing dancing has taken on more meaning for me. I've needed it. It's become a delightful alternative to the Hyatt on Tuesday nights in Columbus but more importantly it's reinforced the value of advice I've been given all my life but have never really embraced or realized. The less I think and worry about dancing, the better I do. When I feel my lead, "just follow", give up some control and stop anticipating my body listens, I feel connection.
As if that's not cheesy enough, I was particularly taken by Billy Elliot's response to the question asked as he was on his way out from the Royal Ballet school audition.
"Can I just ask Billy, what does it feel like when you're dancing?" Billy answers in song called Electricity.
The song that ended up on my i-Phone within minutes of leaving the show (listen to it too many times, and yeah, it's cheesy but it's too late in this post to back off from cheesiness).
And, within minutes or arriving home, I was having my own little "Hot Club of Durham" rocking it out to "Bizet Has His Day" in my living room.
It's a bit like being angry; it's a bit like being scared
Confused and all mixed up and mad as hell
It's like when you've been crying
And you're empty and you're full
I don't know what it is, it's hard to tell