Saturday, June 24, 2006
In Primary School, for a portion of the year, sport would involve dancing. There were the requisite line dances like The Nutbush and The Bus Stop and bush dances like Strip The Willow, and then there was Achy Breaky Heart. For weeks on end the whole of the year level would form a huge circle, take their partner's hands, and proceed to practice the footwork that belonged to Billy Ray Cyrus's grating tune. It was something of a combination between a line dance and a very slow six step swing, and you had to hold the sweaty, clammy hands of your partner the entire time.
In Primary School there are such things as boy and girl germs. Or cooties if you are American, which I am not. There was no rule set by teachers that you had to partner someone of the opposite sex, so everyone immediately rushed to their bestest friend, lest they be stuck with a complete loser.
Everyone but me that is. Well, I rushed to my bestest friend, but she had already rushed to another girl who used to hang out with us (who I hated because she was a scrag and SMOKED). Apparently I just wasn't cool enough. She was my best friend, only not so much in public. "You understand, Erica".
So it was that I got stuck with the biggest loser in the whole of the year level. He was fat, had red hair, goggle style glasses that he kept on his head with a big thick neoprene strap, and he snorted when he laughed. He was also rather thick, and nobody wanted to sit next to him in class because he smelled.
Now you might be calling me shallow, but remember. I wasn't much further up the loser food chain in Primary School, so I had to do all I could to survive. The same way my best friend ran to her other friend when it was time to choose partners. She was surviving.
And so it was, that I got stuck with the biggest loser in the whole of the year level.
I remember his hands being crusty with eczema, and his lumbering dancing style meant my toes were constantly being caught under his heavy feet. His grip was always limp and clammy: like holding two plump, slimy dead fish in my own little hands. I think I dreaded those sport classes even more than the normal sport classes where we were required to use balls and bats and other things that I was always hopeless at.
This morning I heard Achy Breaky Heart on the radio. It brought back a lot of memories.
Somewhere you will NOT be hearing Achy Breaky Heart is The Brunswick Hotel this Sunday at 8:30pm when my band, Eon Automatic, play their next gig. You may be forced to dance, but I can guarantee all the people in attendance will be ultra cool and awesome dancers. Come on down - it would be awesome to see you there!
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