MYSTERY OF THE TEXAS TWOSTEP

CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR:

THE MAD SCIENTIST

Written by Rick Archer 

LIMBO MONTH twelve
MONDAY NIGHT, June 9, 1980

FORCED TO APOLOGIZE

It was Monday night, June 9.  Earlier in the day I had lost control with Victoria.  On the verge of choking her, I caught myself and chose to shove Victoria down on a couch instead.  To say I was livid would be an understatement.  Victoria was not physically hurt, but she was definitely frightened.  Fortunately, I would never strike another woman.  In Hindsight, I point to the ordeal at the hospital as a major contributing factor.  Nevertheless I was very ashamed of myself.

Now it was time to begin the healing process.  I have never been happier to return to work than I was that night.  In particular I was glad to see my friends in the 8 pm Western Superclass.  This was once known as the 'Die Hard' class, but now they referred to themselves as the 'Pioneers'.  As well they should.  This was my very first Super-Advanced Western class.  There were no secrets left between us.  Sometime back in February I finally confessed that I was making things up as we went along.  I was a little embarrassed to realize they had figured this out long ago.  However, to my relief, they did not mind at all.  Someone quipped that he liked being a brave 'Pioneer' willing to take such incredible risks.  When everyone laughed, the new name stuck. 

This was a class with a long history.  They were my last important Disco class in October.  They were my first Western class in November.  They were my first Intermediate class in January.  They were my first Advanced class in March.  Now here in June, they were starting their second month as my first Super-Advanced class.  I had not told them yet, but I was not sure if I could continue teaching this group in July.  Lately the well had gone dry.  Try as I might, I could not think of any new moves.  Now that Urban Cowboy had been released, I was hoping the movie would show me something new I could use.

There were 20 people in the Pioneer class.   Half of them had been part of original Die Hard class that had forced me to go to Cowboy on Fright Night.  Unfortunately, Jerry was no longer with us.  Jerry was the man who had consistently urged me to take one gamble after another.  Jerry had done me a huge favor.  By pushing me way beyond my comfort zone, he had greatly accelerated my development.  In addition, it was Jerry's suggestion to visit TGIS that led to one of the luckiest breaks of my life.  Unfortunately he was no longer part of the Monday class.  However, I still saw Jerry once a week.  He had switched over to the Wednesday class to be with his TGIS friends. 

Lynette, another original Die Hard, was still around on Mondays.  She greeted me tonight with a wry smile.

"So, Richard, I see you have been hiding Victoria from me."

I groaned.  As a boy, whenever my mother addressed me as 'Richard', I knew I was in trouble.  Sure enough, I was in trouble with Lynette as well.  Lynette had been blind-sided by Victoria's surprise appearance at the studio last Monday.  I raised my hands palm up as an admission of guilt.   "Uh, yeah, I guess you noticed she was here last week."

Lynette crossed her arms and gave me a look that would kill.  "That would be an understatement."

Lynette and I had what I referred to as an iceberg relationship.  On the surface, we were friendly but formal, warm but always maintaining a polite distance.  Underneath the surface, we could not wait to get our hands on each other.  Or at least that was true for me.  Judging by the strength of Lynette's irritation, it was probably true for her as well. 

I had a feeling that Lynette was one of those ladies who would never dream of making the first move.  Lynette had a boyfriend who worked offshore.  She had let her dissatisfaction with that relationship be known to me on several occasions.  Given the tone of her voice, I believed I had an open invitation to ask her out whenever I was ready.  Trust me, I had been ready since the moment I met her a year ago.  So what was stopping me?  Take a guess. 

On the day Jennifer sailed off into the sunset five months ago, Lynette had been the first woman I thought of to take her place.  However, before I could talk to Lynette, Victoria got to me first.  I could still hear Victoria's immortal words.

"It is the least you could do.  Just give me a month," she said.  "Once I know what I am dealing with, then I will be stronger.  The time will come when we can talk about parting ways or hopefully starting over, but right now I want you to help me get through this.  I cannot face this alone." 

Due to a mixture of motives... gratitude, guilt, need for atonement, belief that this was what God wanted me to do... I had reluctantly agreed to stay with Victoria while till she got her life in order.  Besides, Victoria had only asked for a month.  Assuming Lynette would still be available in a month, I figured I could see to Victoria, then circle back.  Worst decision I ever made.  Had I ever imagined my Limbo status would continue on indefinitely, I would have never agreed to this moratorium.  Too late now. 

However, at the end of May, I could see light at the end of the tunnel.  Victoria was responding well to her therapy.  She was starting to remind me of her old self, the legendary Sunshine Victoria.  Sad to say, Sunshine Victoria had been eclipsed by her evil twin, Vicious Victoria, starting in December 1978.  It had taken a year and a half, but I was finally seeing a glimmer of the woman I had admired so much.  For that reason, I was convinced my freedom was right around the corner. 

Over these past five months, did I get around to explaining my Limbo situation to Lynette?  Uh, no.  Instead I played footsies on the dance floor hoping to maintain Lynette's interest until the time right.  Then came the toothache. 

"Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans."  -- John Lennon

Due to my illness, Victoria was suddenly back in the picture.  Lynette was not happy.  As she stomped her feet waiting for an explanation, I thought of my Arabic Proverb. 

"That which is not meant for you will not reach you even if you can taste it between your two lips." 

At the moment I had a bad feeling that Lynette was destined to remain between my two lips. 

"I guess I owe you an explanation."

Her voice dripping with scorn, Lynette replied, "I would appreciate that."

I had no choice but explain my weird life space to her.  Her response threw me for a loop.

"Do you love her?"

Wow.  What do I say?  "You deserve a firm response, so yes and no."

To her credit, Lynette smiled.  "Well, that really narrows it down.  Can you be more specific?"

"I could have loved Victoria.  I have never met a woman with more talent in my life.  Let me add that Victoria opened the door to profound personal growth on my part.  I can honestly say I am far more confident thanks to her.  I am more outgoing and more sensitive to the feelings of others.  But deep down I cannot trust her.  Victoria does not know what she wants and I am no longer willing to remain at mercy to her whims.  I intend to see her through this rough spot, then move on.  You have my word."

"How long will it take?"

"Um, I wish I had an answer to that."

Lynette did not like my answer.  That was the last I ever saw of her.

MONDAY NIGHT, June 9, 1980

THE MAD SCIENTIST

As usual, I headed over to Cowboy after class.  Lynette was not to be seen.  Left to draw my own conclusions, I headed over to Bob Job for company.  Bob had started as one of my students.  We became close thanks to our mutual interest in advancing the development of the Texas Twostep.

"Hey, Bob, thanks for covering for me last week."

"Oh, my pleasure.  Your students said they didn't miss you a bit."

Bob was a master at the art of the deflating put-down.  How could I resist taking the bait?

"Why was that, Bob?"

"For one thing, they said I was much more entertaining than you.  I don't think they meant anything evil by that, but they all hoped I would be their teacher again next week.  It was unanimous.  Plus I got to meet Victoria.  Such an interesting woman.  By the way, I think she likes me better than you.  You deserve to know."

Why did I like Bob Job?  I asked myself that question all the time.  Bob was smarter than me.  Bob was funnier than me.  Bob made more money than me.  Bob beat me at chess.  Bob was sarcastic and liked to give me a hard time.  And, according him, he was sexier.  Bob pointed out he had plenty of girlfriends while I was stuck with you know who.  Plus Bob invited me to see one of the worst movies ever filmed, Urban Cowboy, and teased me endlessly over how much suffering the film had caused me.  Let me add that Bob got me in more trouble than any man I have ever met.  But let's not get ahead of our story.  Seriously, to this day I don't why I kept him around.  He was a terrible human being.  But he definitely made me laugh.

By day, Bob was a research chemist over at Shell Oil.  Bob was always trying to figure things out.  That inquisitiveness served him well.  Referred to as the 'Mad Scientist' by his colleagues, Bob had made Shell a small fortune with his creative patents.  Bob was rich enough to have afforded countless dance lessons.  However, Bob did not need help.  He was an exception to my rule that intelligent people trip over their own brain.  Once I realized Bob learned to dance faster than I did, that gave me another solid reason to dislike him.  Bob used his genius to catch on quickly to Western dancing, so I made him a teacher.  Dumb move on my part.  At the end of every class, Bob told his students to remind me how much they much preferred him to me.  Guess what?  They did.

Bob entered my life at the start of the 1980 Western Era.  Due to Limbo Captivity, my loneliness drove me to the dance clubs virtually every night.  After dancing with my lady students for an hour or so, I would take a break.  Lately I had acquired a new headache... I no longer did the asking.  My lady students had gotten in the habit of asking me to dance instead.  Yeah, I know what you're thinking.  There's not a lot of sympathy here.  But look at it from my perspective.  A dance song is 3 1/2 to 4 minutes long.  I have just danced non-stop with fifteen women over the past hour.  Now I am taking a much-deserved break only to have two women I haven't danced with ask me for their turn.  Or two women I danced with earlier in the night want to dance with me again.  Or rather than let me sit alone, a woman assumes I need company.  So she walks over to remind me how cute she is.  So do you feel sorry for me?  Probably not. 

I referred to these woman as 'Determined Flirts'.  They were a serious problem.  I did not need added temptation.  What I needed was a bodyguard, so I made sure to hang with Chuck and Doug.  I used them as a face-saving reason to avoid certain women who were Jericho to my admittedly flimsy defenses.  However, Chuck or Doug were only available on Wednesday and Saturdays.  That forced me to look for other men to rescue me.  That is how I met Bob.  He was perfectly happy with the arrangement.  Once he figured out why I was keeping these women at arm's length, Bob had his pick of some truly sensational women.  Did he thank me?  Of course not.  Bob claimed these women dropped by to see him, not me.  Have I mentioned how much I disliked Bob? 

Even though I was technically his boss, Bob showed me no respect.  Whenever I threatened to fire him, Bob said, "Go right ahead.  Do you think I do this for the money?  No, I do it for the women.  I'll just go teach for someone else." 

I assume the Reader can tell that we enjoyed sparring with each other.  I needed a good teacher, so against my better judgment I kept Bob around.  Two nights a week Bob taught in one room, I taught in the other.  After class, we would go dancing together and invite our students to come along.  Although Bob was rotten to the core, there were a few things I liked about him.  I liked Bob's curiosity.  I also liked his sense of humor.  Like me, Bob was very sarcastic.  Whenever he wasn't picking on me, Bob kept me in stitches with clever observations about all the bad dancers. 

One night not long after the Urban Cowboy debut, Bob and I were standing together at the San Antone Rose.  The place was mobbed.  Bob looked at me.  "Wasn't this place one of your favorite Discos that was killed off by the movie?"

I rolled my eyes.  "Don't remind me."'  Bob was correct.   'The Rose' had once been Mirage, a popular Disco which died an untimely death thanks to Urban Cowboy. 

Standing at the railing, we found an elevated place that allowed us to survey the entire dance floor from above.  Bob used our observation post to turn our visit into Comedy Hour.  There were a lot of people out there who had never danced Western in their life.  With the floor stuffed wall to wall with dancers, we chortled with delight as one clumsy couple after another crashed into each other.  With Bob offering droll commentary after each accident, we had fun feeling superior. 

Just then a greenhorn couple lost their balance and bounced hard into the railing right where we stood.  To Bob's chagrin, the vibration knocked his longneck beer bottle to the floor, spilling its contents.  In mourning over the loss of his beer, Bob commented, "Thank goodness for the railing.  Someone could get hurt watching these people dance."

Needless to say, the accidents continued and so did Bob's caustic observations.  After one particularly bad fender bender, Bob quipped, "I always thought the men made women dance backwards because the guys couldn't do it themselves.  Now I know the real reason.  The men use women's butts to absorb the impact."

I grinned at his comment.  "Good point!  I've heard of men who hide behind a woman's skirt, but here at the Rose they use a woman's backside for protection.  I swear, the dancing is so bad I might need to wear football pads."

Bob grew serious. 

"I don't know how these women put up with this kind of dancing.  The crowding is worse than rush hour traffic.  Either the woman is forced to dance in place or her partner runs her into the wall or another couple.  Lately the girls I dance with yawn the entire time.  One girl says if she falls asleep while we dance, don't take it personally.  They all ask me when Disco is coming back."

I nodded in agreement.  "The women I dance with say the same thing.  We all miss Disco." 

Bob continued.  "I had a funny experience over the weekend.  I went with my girlfriend Leanne to her hometown in Beeville.  Talk about a small town.  Leanne talked me into taking her dancing at the local dance hall.  Once we began dancing the New Style like we do at Cowboy, you would not believe the hate looks I got."

I grinned.  "Too bad they didn't beat you up.  What were they mad about?"

"It took me a while to figure it out, but I think the men were mad at me for letting Leanne dance forwards.  Plus I used that new move I made up where Leanne goes under my arm.  I got several looks of disgust, so I asked Leanne what she thought was wrong."

"What did she say?"

"Leanne grew up here.  She said the men in the Beeville area don't have a clue how to dance city-style.  I already knew that because these guys did not dance in a circle."

"Are you kidding?  I thought the whole world danced in a circle."

"No, I'm serious.  The Beeville guys go any direction they please.  It's like bumper cars out there.  Thank goodness Leanne is tough.  She had all kinds of bruises before the night was over."

Skeptical, I replied, "Can I assume you are teasing?"

Bob grinned.  "I exaggerate a little, but yeah, she did get bumped into a lot.  I've never seen guys go in so many random directions.  You're right about those football pads."

"That's crazy.  So what did you do?"

"I got out a compact mirror and used it to see anyone coming up behind my back.  I didn't want to get rear-ended."

"Gee, what a clever innovation.  Knowing you, you will add sharp spurs as added protection."

"Hey, that's a great idea.  Why didn't I think of that?"

Now it was my turn to get serious. 

"Western dancing isn't as bad as I thought it would be.  I'm starting to like the music way more than I expected.  I also like having a woman in my arms.  That particular aspect is a big plus.  But even with the changes I've made, compared to Disco, the dancing is still pathetic.  The constant sameness aggravates me no end.  Forwards, backwards, Circle Turn, forwards, backwards, Circle Turn.  I'm going out of my mind.  I absolutely crave for complexity.  If we could just make the dancing more like Disco, I think I would enjoy Western a lot more."

Bob caught a waitress as she walked by and ordered another beer.  Then he turned back to me. 

"I agree.  I don't want to stop dancing.  Dancing is in my blood.  You know what I miss?  I miss turning the girls.  I miss making girls dizzy with spins and having them protest and laugh at the same time.  I miss having a girl's hair fly in my face.  I miss feeling her floating skirt brush up against my knees when I turn her.  I miss showing her off.  I miss hearing her beg me to stop.   I long to hear a girl cry, 'Oh, Bobby, no more turns, please!  I can't take it any more!'  We have got to start turning the girls again.  We need to make girls laugh and beg for mercy like the old days.  I want to hear girls complain about getting dizzy, then have them admit they love it.  I want to put an end to women reminding me to wake her up when the song is over."

I smiled.  Bob was right.  Turning the girls was the answer.  Lynette had whispered the same thing many times, so obviously the former Disco ladies missed underarm turns as much as we did. 

Bob continued.  "I guess what I don't understand is why everyone seems completely happy with the way the dancing is.  You are the only person who seems to understand when I bitch about how bad the dancing is.  Any idea why everyone is so content?"

"My guess is it has something to do with Plato's Cave.  Have you ever heard of Plato's Cave?"

"Sure, what about it?"

"In Plato's Cave, the prisoners tolerate the dark conditions because they have no idea things could be better.  It is not until people leave the cave that they realize what they have been missing.  People who grew up with Country Dancing accept this boring style because it is all they know.  On the other hand, you and I remember how much fun Disco Dancing was, so that makes it really hard for us to accept the simplicity.  It is knowing what we are missing that makes it so hard for me to accept the new status quo."

"Western dancing has improved some.  At least most of men dance backwards once in a while."

"I know it has gotten better, but it is still a far cry from what Disco Dancing used to be."

Bob nodded.  "Maybe we should make Western Dancing more like Disco."

Hmm.  Maybe we should. 

THURSDAY NIGHT, June 12, 1980

JUST WHAT I WAS AFRAID OF

After being driven to edge of madness by the hoopla surrounding Urban Cowboy for a year and a half, it irked me no end to miss the June premiere of the movie.  It was the event of a lifetime, bigger than Haley's Comet, and I had missed it.  Oh well, even people with charmed lives have to suffer once in a while.  It was Thursday, June 12.  After class that night, Bob and I went to see what all the fuss was about.

The dancing was a major disappointment.  Good grief, my own students knew more about Western dancing than the extras in the movie.  Considering this movie was supposed to revolutionize Western dancing, forget that.  It was little more than Prairie Dancing.

Watching John Travolta shove Debra Winger backwards throughout the movie exposed once and for all just how limited Western dancing was compared to Disco dancing. Based on what I saw, there would be no imminent Western Dance Revolution on the horizon.  I sunk into a massive depression.   It upset me to learn I had been right all along... C&W dancing was a flat tire. 

Perhaps I had been spoiled by Saturday Night Fever or perhaps the endless Urban Cowboy hype had raised my hopes too high, but the letdown was painful.  Even the story line was lame.  Oh, gee, a dance contest at the end.  Gosh, what a surprise!  I wonder where they got that idea?  It seemed to me the script for this movie was little more than a Saturday Night Fever rip-off. 

My ongoing resentment over how Urban Cowboy had caused all of Houston's Disco clubs to close was aggravated anew.  Disco had to die for this crap?  

I suppose my resentment colored my perception.  It was extremely tough for me to get excited about a movie filmed at Gilley's.  I still could not fathom how a rundown dump like Gilley's had ever become famous enough to rival the Eiffel Tower for popularity. 

Nor did I think Gilley's was the image Houston needed to be projecting around the country.  Houston was the Energy Capital of the world.  It boasted the most important shipping port in the country.  Houston's impressive skyline, futuristic Astrodome, world-class medical center and NASA space center all testified to a bustling city on the move.  Houston had many things to be proud of, but none of those assets were featured.

Instead, we were stuck with a movie that projected a highly unflattering picture of my hometown.  Movie viewers would be treated to images of Gilley's vast metal-topped barn surrounded by an ocean of pickup trucks.  Inside they would see belligerent, beer-bellied oafs proudly displaying Texas swagger.  The various characters in the movie fit every negative redneck stereotype known to man - criminal, ignorant, abusive, close-minded, immature, loud-mouthed, aggressive and prejudiced.  Not a pretty picture. 

However, I would have forgiven everything if the dancing had been any good.  That was my bread and butter.  Unfortunately, the dancing was just as mediocre as the movie.  The worst part came when Travolta stopped right in the middle of the dance floor and did a clogging exhibition.  I had never seen anything more ridiculous.  Didn't anyone bother to tell the director that 'Real Cowboys' don't do clogging, much less in the middle of the Gilley's dance floor?  For the sin of violating Cowboy Rules, any guy caught clogging at Gilley's would be taken out back and beaten within an inch of his life.  Seriously, the dancing was so bad I was surprised they didn't include 'Put Your Little Foot', a huge elementary school standard.

Even though my friend Patsy Swayze had been involved in the choreography, I was not impressed.  In fact, I thought the dancing I saw every night at Cowboy was far superior.  It was painful to accept, but I knew more about western dancing than the Dancing Cowboy himself. 

However, one scene did catch my eye.  In the movie's big dance contest, I noticed a man had twirled his partner twice with his left hand as they moved around the floor.  That move made me think.  I had not seen a 'Double Turn' since the Ghost of Disco Past.  I kept the memory of that double turn etched in my brain for future reference.

In the meantime, I wondered what my students thought about the movie and the dancing.  I got my answer swiftly enough.  They were not happy!  On my next visit to Cowboy, a lady named Pamela made a bitter observation. 

"Oh my God, Rick, that movie was terrible!  I didn't see anything new.  You know what?  This country dancing is starting to get really boring."

Her words sent a lightning bolt of terror through my body.  She had just confirmed my worst fears were true.  Compared to Disco, Western dancing was far too easy.

As I would soon learn, Pamela was not alone in her criticism.  Pamela was a former Disco Superstar.  For serious Disco dancers like her, the current state of Western dancing did not come remotely close to challenging them.  I had long feared the moment would come when former Disco dancers would complain about how simple the dancing was.  B-O-R-I-N-G! 

Sure enough, as I talked with various students about the movie, I began to hear similar grumbles.  I think these people had feared this all along, but stayed quiet because they hoped Urban Cowboy would show them something new.  Now that the movie had come and gone, former Disco dancers like Pamela were just as disappointed as I had been.  Not just that, they were fed up.  Their patience evaporated the moment they realized there was nothing new to hope for.

What would happen if everyone agreed with Pamela??  Without a challenge, the thrill would soon be gone.  My deepest fear was that Western dancing would grow old in a hurry and people would move on to something else.  All along I had worried that Western Dancing was too simple to have any staying power.  Thanks to Pamela, that fear had just risen to front and center.  This was a serious problem.