The Balboa Bay Senior's Dance.

Friday afternoon, I saddled up to several ladies at the Balboa Bay Club. Remember every-other week dances are held at Balboa Park. Presidents Way is about three light south of the Zoo, when you turn left. and hope to get lucky. A few carry their dancing shoes in handbags. I have been tripping there for three years now. I am in luck, the Billy Harper band is on stage.
  So as not to offend anyone, the names of my dancing partners and those who have retired to an assistant living quarters will be changed. Most are aged seventy up until their nineties. The lucky ones still come with their partners in tow.
  I drove the 5 freeway from Encinitas, one of the few times I drive. I get off at the Tenth Avenue off-ramp and make two lefts until I hit Park Boulevard. Two lights further another one on President's Way and I park up the hill. I pay my three dollars and take up my perch in the back. I like to zoom in on some of these creatures from heaven.
  My camera can make a beautiful God out of an old dried up turnip-guess that makes me a writer. I am wearing my new two tone saddle shoes and have used lots of Eternity Cologne on my neck. My hair, or what is left of it, is held by Brill cream hair cement.
    My first dance is with Amy. She is tall and most handsome. I glance to the corner seats and see that English has made it with a few of her friends. I am delighted. The next dance I hold English firmly but not too tight. To refresh you memory, I met her at a dance in back of an industrial arts building in Encinitas. She wears blond hair and a glowing smile
   "Please your crushing my hands," I warn her.
    'Can't help it. You are too much fun." she replies
    I twirl her a few times and nestle her closer to me. She does not flinch but readily obliges. I look down at her and her eyes meet mine. It is love at first sight. I am in love! 
    "She tells me that she has a boy friend, but her eyes tell me he is now history. Besides I wish to return to Dicken's country again."
    A few more dances later, the band takes an intermission and we partake in refreshments. I make a few cracker cheese sandwiches and drink the lemonade. After intermission, I dance with a few others. A tall blond sitting acquiesces to my charms. She feels just right, but I notice she trembles
   "What is wrong with you, Doris. Do you have Parkinson's?"
   "No but this is the first time I have danced with you You are a fine dancer."
    "Don't thank me, but you can thank Edith in heaven."
   After the dance, I returned to Old Town and parked my car its commuter lot. I made two egg sandwiches and turned in early. I never felt better and just knew my time was about to come. At the time of this blog, I will most certainly return to this ballroom for tango lessons tomorrow night