Middletown is an absolutely fascinating place to live.
Yes, that’s right, I called our quiet suburban community interesting. More than interesting, fascinating – if you look hard enough. I know many of you are shaking your heads in disbelief, wondering how a town that has no place for live music but can still support four Dunkin’ Donuts can be interesting. But it’s not about the facilities – it’s about the people. There are little gems of spontaneity and randomness strewn all across Central Connecticut. Did you see the dog dancing performance at the Middletown Dances festival? It’s unfortunate that most Wesleyan students don’t get the opportunity to meet many of their Middletown neighbors. But that’s why I’m here. I want to burst the Wesleyan bubble.
A while back my friend Karin suggested we go contra dancing. There was a meeting of the Contra Corners contra dancing society that Saturday in Bristol. She explained to me that contra dancing was like square dancing without the square. Square dancing’s way of thinking outside the box. I’m not a dancer and was hesitant about going to the church (besides my fear of evangelicals, what kind of people choose to spend their Saturday nights in a Church basement?). But always being up for a bit of an ironic adventure, I agreed to go.
I was sipping from a Dixie cup of Hi-C shortly after arriving when I was asked to dance by a nice gentleman with two chins named Alan, who, I soon learned, was a retired teacher and an experienced contra dancer. Aw, I thought, he’s so into his little square dance hobby. I accepted his invitation and, like the gentleman that he was, he led me by the hand into the line of dancers that was forming on the basketball court/dance floor. He explained that most of the other people in line were also seasoned contra dancers. How cute, I thought, they have a whole little contra-community. He added with a wink, “Just follow us and you’ll be fine”.
Follow them and I’ll be fine? What If I didn’t follow? Would I be trampled by folk dancers run amok? Banned from the contra-circle forever? Offered to the evangelicals who were waiting upstairs? This was just square dancing, right? What possibly could go wrong?
The banjo picked up the jig and Alan threw me around in a disorienting spin. I could barely hear the caller and the commands I did hear were in a strange amalgam of southern dialect and contra lingo. Do-si-do was just the beginning. I kept looking out for Alan and followed his direction. But after a few twirls, I came around and Alan was gone. A younger blonde man was standing in his place, staring at me with a buck tooth smile. I didn’t know what to make of this guy or his buck teeth, until he took my hand and continued to direct me as Alan had. Ah, a new partner. I was catching on.
A few moves later he passed me on to the next guy in line, and eventually I had danced with everyone. After everyone had his or her turn with me (this is not as dirty as it sounds), I was standing next to Alan again. I had come full circle. I had no idea what I was doing, but with everyone’s help I made it though my first dance. My blonde buck-toothed partner and a few of my other in-between partners came by to congratulate me on my first dance. And with that, I too was a contra.
Turns out people who spend their Saturday nights in church basements aren’t that bad after all.
Leave a Reply