When it comes to social activities such as tango dancing it’s unusual to share a binding shame. As local tango scenes are what they are, advanced adults should be grateful that others dedicate a lot of their time to offer opportunities for them to dance. If you’re lucky to be in a compound where you are not the target of age discrimination from the immature crowd that see tango venues as a convenient playground to have fun while seeing in every adult figure the reincarnation of a judgmental father figure. Without a doubt, the glory days when adults welcomed with open arms the young to the milongas may be a thing of the past, simply because time inexorably passes, and the young of yesterday are getting old, and the kids grow up.
Females seem to fare better as father time makes its yearly trek to add wrinkles around the eyes and little blue streaks of the sexy legs. There is the story of this veteran of the international traveling circuit who blew into a small town on her way home, and ran into some old acquaintances.
During her brief stay they managed to go dancing twice, before they were saying their long goodbyes over beer at 1 o’clock in the morning. The usual regrets were exchanged about not having been able to offer her a chance to teach while she was here, when she surprised everyone by saying,”Actually, I did have a chance to teach.”
– You did? When, how, what did you teach?
– Well, I taught about poaching…
– Poaching? You mean the process of gently simmering food in liquid other than oil, generally milk, stock or wine?
– No, no!
– Poaching as in the illegal taking of wild plants or animals contrary to local and international conservation and wildlife management laws?
– No, what a couple of the friends you introduced me to, did before we even let go off the handshakes and hugs. They offered to organize classes for me, and one asked me to teach with him.
– Well, we use the word “friend” with kindness but very loosely in the South.
– Well, the lesson I taught them was that they were “poaching” a teacher who was kindly introduced to them by you and Valorie. That they should respect the fact that Alberto and Valorie were my hosts, were standing right behind me, and that if I were going to do any teaching it would be under their sponsorship.
– I bet you got the deer in headlights look, didn’t you?
– Actually one of them offered to take me home.
– Speaking of deer in headlights look, there were several guys who came running to ask me to dance when they started playing some very strange music. What I taught them was that they should wait until they played a tango. Their jaws dropped in incredulity. “But I thought this was a tango, a new tango,” one said. No, I said, you need to learn what a tango sounds like. Go sit down and watch this guy here, he’ll give you a signal when they play a tango and then you can come and ask me to dance.
– That’s what the doctor ordered!! More reasons to demonize poor old me…
– Ha ha ha! By the time they egg your home I’ll be gone…
– So, anything else you taught?
– Another guy asked me to dance and I told him if he could you play tango music? His feathers were ruffled, as he went back and played a Pugliese. Another Pugliese? We danced one Pugliese and right after came one De Angelis. Ever heard of Tanturi, D’Arienzo? By now I had already told him several times to loosen up his grip, to hold his own balance, and to stop trying to bend me. He was not a happy camper, but I doubt he learned the lesson.
By the time they got the check, vampires and ghosts were cruising the dark neighborhood. They hugged, kissed and promised to stay in contact. Of course she forgot who she had been with by the time the 777 was over international waters.