Real connections take a hang-up
Pre-Prohibition Kalispell had 28 saloons. That’s nothing compared to Kalispell precursor Demersville: At the height of its population in 1890 it had 73 liquor dispensaries, or about one per 21 residents. Montanans still generally enjoy a drink.
As do I. I also like leisure activities not centered on alcohol. So I go dancing.
North End Swing hosts three monthly dances, two preceded by a beginner lesson. On a recent Friday night, teacher Hana Head coached about eight of us in the simplest sequence of East Coast swing. First we did it by ourselves, then paired up staring hard at the mirror and counting aloud.
When we were ready for music, our dancing fell apart again but we could laugh, reset and restart. After every old-time tune Head asked us to change partners, and so we followers moved to the next lead and another song and, well, dance.
The mood turned from earnest study to fun, for we had already danced with the same partner at least twice and were getting to know each other as well as the steps. I especially enjoyed dancing with Tom Reynolds, who teaches dance at Flathead Valley Community College and shows up at lessons to encourage the newbies. For dancers, the only thing better than more dancing is more dancers.
Head wrapped up the lesson and urged us to put the “social” in social dance by sticking around for the rest of the evening. More regulars trickled in. One couple came with a baby, who jostled in their arms for a few numbers, his big eyes taking in the swirl of movement and the sound of music.
Between songs, most of us stood at the back of the room trying to quiet the inner anxiety: Would we be asked to dance? It was one of these nervous moments when the woman standing next to me, who’d come to learn with a girlfriend, suddenly blurted out, “I’ve gotta check my phone!” and she ran off to the anteroom.
It felt like middle school, lurking against the wall waiting and hoping and at the same time fearful of an invitation. We’ve all been beginners. Thankfully, I did get to dance and went home buoyed by the activity and smiling at the courage it took and here I was, still alive and I wouldn’t have a hangover in the morning.
The next weekend I checked out the Elks club where I made a new friend, who drank cranberry juice all evening and wanted to dance all night. We couldn’t help but notice the four young fellows at a table adjacent to the dance floor, all zoned on their phones, their faces bathed in blue light. For hours they took no notice of the floor boiling with dancers as K’Niption Fit churned through one rock anthem after another, until finally the guys stood up and left.
They — and the woman at swing — got me thinking: When our phones call, do they make us miss any dance we came to do?
Audience development director Margaret Davis can be reached at 406-758-4436 or mdavis@dailyinterlake.com