Benny Jay: Learning To Dance

For the last three weeks, I've been teaching myself how to dance.

It starts when my Wife buys two tickets to the Raphael Saadiq concert at the Park West.

The tickets say there will be dancing. You cannot see Raphael Saadiq without dancing. I make myself a personal declaration: "No more being scared and self conscious. No more cowering in the corners of life. The time has come to change. From here on out, you're gonna be a dancer!"

I break the news to my buddies at a track meet: "I'm gonna learn to dance...."

Everyone's an expert -- everyone's got something to say. Ray hops off the bleachers and starts Steppin' right there. He's as smooth as they come. I watch in awe. "Damn, man, where did you learn how to do that?" I ask.

He shrugs, like it's something he's been doing his whole life. Sort of like breathing.

I try to imitate what I've just seen, but Daddy Dee cuts me off. "You look really stupid," he says.

"Thanks for the confidence boost," I say.

"Forget the steps. Just move back and forth while trying to look cool...."

He shuffles one foot one way and the other foot the other way, while looking really blase.

"That's like dancing for dummies," I say.

"Well....."

"I'm better than that -- I wanna dance!"

That night I search You Tube looking for inspiration: Fred Astaire, Sammy Davis Jr., John Travolta, random teenagers on Soul Train. Forget it. They're so good and I'm so bad. It only makes me depressed.

Every day I wake up and tell myself: This is the day I teach myself how to dance. And everyday I find some excuse not to get it done.

Finally, a few days before the concert, my wife takes me into the kitchen and says: "Follow me."

It's four basic steps, she explains. Left food forward, that's one. Left foot back, that's two. Right foot up and down, three. Pause, four. Then reverse it. Right food back. Right food forward. Left foot up and down. Pause. And repeat....

She puts "The Way I See It" -- Raphael Saadiq's latest -- on the beat-up, old CD player we have on the kitchen counter, looks at me and asks: "Ready?"

I nod. "Okay, let's go," she says.

"Ooh, ooh, ooh -- sure hope you mean it," sings Raphael.

I take baby steps. One, two, three, four.

"Count it out," says my wife.

"One, two, three, four," I count.

"Good," she says.

"One, two, three, four....."

"Now count to yourself....."

I count in my mind: "One, two, three, four....."

"Now, count without moving your lips...."

And on it goes as we run through the songs on the CD: "100 yard Dash," "Keep Marchin'," "Big Easy"....

And, just like, that I'm a Steppin' fool. We dance through the whole CD. The next day I wake up with the songs playing in my mind. Everywhere I go I hear Raphhael Saadiq. Got "The Way I See It" going nonstop on my brain. I'm riding the elevator at City Hall and I'm singing to myself "Falling in love can be easy, staying in love can be tricky." And I'm Steppin' right there in the elevator -- one, two, three, four. Only I'm taking teeny-tiny baby steps, so no one will notice and realize I'm as weird as, you know, I really am.

On the eve of the concert I give it one last go all by myself in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom. Checking myself out. One, two, three, four. Me and Raphael Saadiq -- the world's coolest dudes.

Nicky, the dog, walks in and looks at me.

"I'm ready, Nicky," I tell her. "John Travolta's got nothin' on me...."

To Be Continued....