The Lady in Red- Balboa Park Dance

Thursday began bleak. My auto air conditioner broke down. A consultant from a Chevy dealership estimated it would cost me  one thousand dollars to replace the condenser and a few hundred to replace my hoses. Wednesday morning, I drove my car to the highly recommended MobileAutoCareCenter, located just  south of Saxony and Encinitas Boulevard. (310 Encinitas Blvd.)
   They quoted me four hundred and one dollar to fix the drivers-side window and change the hoses and fans up-front. I took a chance and left my car there. The next day, my car dolly had a brand new lung to help with its right-sided-one. And not only that, but the new hoses and belts made Dolly purr like a kittcn.  Now I could ride it to downtown San Diego for the Thursday, Balboa Bay Club dance.
   
   Newcomers to my blog should know music plays a major role in my life. Without a song, my day would never end.
    My Mom Edith knew my lisp would make it impossible for her George to meet the Ladies. of course she caused it. I was a nail biter since the time she broke the first broom over my head.  So at twelve years old, she drove me to a little recreational park in West Los Angeles for a series of dancing lessons. To further impress the ladies, she arranged a piano teacher to provide thirty minute lessons every week.
   The teacher visited my house and gave me a thirty minute lesson for five dollars. One year later, she did what all fine Jewish mothers do, she arranged for a piano teacher to visit my house. I was bored with classical music but my piano hands and two large ears alerted me that I could play by ear.
   My first and last wife I met at Casey's Bar in the heart of the U.C.L.A. Village. My last two girl friends I met at the Alpine Village Ballroom  in Torrance California. And that leads me to the Balboa Park where every other Thursday, there is live music and a bevy of old gals to prance with.
 
   And that brings me to the mechanic at the Mobile Station. They fixed a window and changed a few hoses and straps and my little engine ran just like knew. Like my car Dolly, there was a new hop in my step as we turned left on President's Way in Balboa Park. It was going on twelve o'clock. I opened Dolly's trunk and removed my brand new dancing shoes. Of course the pair came with a price, blisters on my feet.
I walked into the large lobby and as usual, the ticket tackers begged me to play a few ditties on the old piano.After I played "Don't Cry for me Argentina" a few times, and a host of others, I felt like going in and seeing what feast would be waiting inside. But first I had to wait for a lady in red. The jabber mouth took forever to buy the ticket. I paid and took residence in the rear of the ballroom. The instructor was giving  Western Swing lessons. (Argentina is in the World Cup finals in soccer. Germany will make them cry on Sunday.)
   That is when all hell broke loose, but I will allow the true story to unfold the way it happened so as not to bore you. The volunteer host, Steve, walked up to me. Of course I needed time to get my bearings after my car had had major surgery.
   "George, wonder if you can do me a favor...A gal just entered and needs somebody to show her around. Can you help this lost soul?" Now of course I felt too, just too tired, but who could refuse my friend Steve.
   "No problem, Steve, which one is it?" He walked over to that same jabber mouthed-one. She was hunched over so her face was covered.
   "No problem Steve, I will take over." I led her to the circle where Janice taught the Western Swing.  I felt too nervous to look at her, yet my hands told me a surprise waited under the red dress. During the lesson, all she did was laugh, so much so,  I couldn't concentrate on the lesson at hand.
   The red dress had lots of rhythm, unlike my last girl friend who danced with two left feet and an arthritic back-to boot. Yet I still could not find her face. It was covered with glasses. But under those glasses I viewed a wonderful piece of artwork, with potential to end up in the Louvre of Paris. I survived the dance lesson and asked the red dress if she would like to join me at my table in back.
   "Why I would love to." The red dress  wiggled to my back table, but she did not sit down. On a small paper was the name Barbara. I reserved the seat in case I got lucky. In other words, Barbara could be any name or dame. She looked bewildered
   " Who is Barbara?"
   "You have just become Barbara."
    "No...my name is Sue!"
    "Well I have just changed it to Barbara Sue."
   Just then Little Charley walked over to the back table. He had been a friend since my days in Carlsbad. No more than five feet, he was quick with a quip. But it was my day today, since my windows worked for the first time in ages.
    "Susie, meet Barbara." Now Charlie became Barbara. Charlie no longer had any quick jokes. "Barbara is my girl friend." Of course we all cracked up. I told Sue that Barbara usually wore a wig.
   Well Sue and I got along famously. Even though not a dancing scholar yet, she graced the ballroom with her  Texas smile. All she needed was a yellow rose to cap it off. Her body and mine became partners in time. My moves became hers in no time. We danced every dance, even though my asthma would kick up dust later.
    "Why are you always fussing with your hands?" I grabbed her left and began to stroke it. She blushed and told me that she had a hang-nail. She blushed red.
    "How about going with me after the dance for the Happy Hour at Prado's?"
    I led her up the trail to the Balboa Park's Prado restaurant. It was just five after four. We were too excited to order, but began by sharing a red wine. She indulged a bit and both of us confessed.
    "You know Susie, you turn me on." Instantly she agreed.
    "I know we have had a chemical reaction."
   We then ordered the popcorn shrimp and garnished beans. Humus and crackers were provided. We needed to ask our mouths to eat, since love took priority.
    "Well George, my daughter came to San Diego to be with her Navy Seal husband. I am staying with her but during the weekend, my other daughter will be coming to San Diego to take a real estate class with me."
    I paid the bill. The two hours flew by and I returned her to her car parked at the Air Space Museum. Of course I felt myself in a space craft called love-at-first-sight.
    "I would like your phone number."  She opened her trunk after she apologized for a few speckles of dust. I felt embarrassed, since dust covered my car.  I went to kiss her on her cheek. She grabbed me and gave me a Texas How-Do-You-welcome on my mouth. Her tongue danced like a wild Texas stallion. (This love story is not over, just yet.)

 Nuts and Bolts from San Diego. Comic-Com and the Del Mar racing begins next week. Bring cameras but park you car elsewhere. These are the biggies for the month. Make a date at the Town and Country to enjoy the music of over 100 old-time jazz bands in November. Don't forget the Miramar Air Show also. 
  Gals who wish to dance with big blue eyes, me, can come to the Encinitas Senior Center on Friday afternoon. Between 2 and 4 the Billy Harper Band will play. A nice half-time buffet is available for the five dollar fee.