Last night, about nine days before Christmas, Santa gave me a present I just could not refuse. The Balboa Bay Club sponsored the 14 piece Moonlight Serenade to the Balboa Park. For only ten dollars, My two legs had a chance to tango, waltz and fox trot to the sounds of big bands of Benny Goodman, Harry James and others.Since Balboa Park subsidized the group, The door charge was only ten dollars since Balboa Park subsidized the event.
The day before on Thursday afternoon, the Balboa Club had their usual one o'clock dance. My body needed an oil and lube job so I hightailed it there. I danced several with Mary, a retread from England who, like many, stayed married for 28 years. Like many it was not one of love, but one of convention or the thing to do. (My body had been sleep walking the week before. Still riding itself of my Tom Turkey the month before.)
Thursday afternoon, the Thursday seniors had their afternoon dance.Mary , a retread from England told me about it while she recalled her 28 marriage of convenience. She was tall and slightly bent. She told me about herself during our break when we drank punch and filled ourselves with grapes, crackers and munchies. She had to be in her middle sixties, quite young for me.
"George there was no such thing as divorce in England. I stayed married to raise our two kids. I hightailed it to America. I opened up a real estate business in La Mesa and worked my head off to raise our kids. My husband Harry just loafed around letting me do all the work....By the way, there is a big dance tomorrow night here. The Moonlight Serenade will be here, and the dancing begins at seven."
Just before I left, I danced with Betty. Her heart is still broken from an earlier romance. Like several, her husband had died a few years back and she wanted to recapture the bliss that Cupid's arrow missed. "I am taking no chances this time. I have a guy for every night of the week. Nobody is getting into my bedroom without a permanent relationship." The rather small smiling one then parted for another."
The next day I took a seven hour nap on the eve of the dance. Back to back dances were knew to me. The Green line Trolley took me to my car Dolly. My Chevy compact had been parked at the Old Town Commuter Station. I drove it a Rosecrans street mall and took my chances Burger King and its Double Whopper with fries. I hadn't been there in years since fast food restaurants and my stomach parted a long time ago. I had to ask for the ketchup and the bag of fries was only half the size. Finished, I drove around the block and ended up on Pacific Highway.
I took it south to he on-ramp of the 5 Freeway, and exited at 10th Avenue. I traveled up A Street to Park Blvd and turned left. At Presidents Way, the green arrow told me to turn left again and park it. On the East was the Hall of Champions and to my right or West was the Hall of Dancing. Up ahead was the antique car museum and Aerospace building.
It was cool and windy while a Southwestern jet descended over Balboa Park for its arrival at Lindbergh Field. It was a black got gorgeous evening.
At about seven, the orchestra began with the song, Unforgettable. Even thought not dressed in black I walked up to old Mrs. Reliable, Sadie. She had been married to Barney for fifty years when Barney's engine blew a rod. They had danced all of those fifty. She needed to overhaul her engine and get a new paint job. Now She looked all of only twenty with restored boobs, and a face job to match.
Well my first dance led to many more. Once my aging body got going, there is no stopping it. The band now played Jealousy, a tango. Martha just came inside the huge ballroom. She has never refused my blue eyes and blond hair. I faked the Tango and yearned for more dancing. My body sludge left me for purified sweat. My engine began to purr like a kitten.
"Your hair looks lovely Martha. Was it done in La Jolla?
'I did it in a salon in Mission Valley. They cut it but I told them how." She told me she would see her grand kids in Ohio and take Southwestern. At exactly seven thirty, I went to the front room for the buffet. . Clusters of pineapples, melons, cheeses, and baby meat balls were set on the table How could I resist."
I returned to my table and fortified myself with the fruits of my labor. . A man at the table looked unhappy. To my greeting, he could only muster, "These folks have a lot of heart." It was a negative comment but I allowed it to slide. The MC then announce between songs, "We will be playing in Banker's Hill next Thursday so hope to see you there. Now we will play a mixer. Will the men line up on one side and ladies the other. My legs leaped up and I followed them.
With my luck a grey-haired dame came my way. She smiled and grabbed all of me. In fact, she squashed me, but it felt good to be with someone so giving and warm. She wished to dance more but I wished to see what Santa had next for me.
Now I was excited to find what piece-of-candy was next in the circle. The new George eye balled them, one eye at a time. My legs never felt so limber. The more lefty danced, the more righty wished to followed. I exhibited more moves than an octopus escaping a shark.
I dipped them, twirled them and hugged those who allowed it. All I needed now was to wear a black shirt with a black matching shirt. I would show them moves never seen before on this coming Thursday in Banker Hill.
No matter what their age, each one appeared like a Mrs. Universe Pageant winner. If only one could have cropped one ladies Pinocchio nose, it would have been a perfect evening. I grabbed the left over variety of candy along with ribbons and wrappers from the table
The MC for the event gave me their phone number and e mail which I will share with you: 855-566-2335 and msonsandlego@gmail.com. Before nine o'clock I left for my car. The foggy night did not matter to me. I felt young with all of my problems reduced to the sweetness of sweat.
Tonight I could now compete with all the winners from Dancing with the Stars. I am, yes I am a star. After defogging my compact I turned right on Park Blvd and another right for the downtown 5.Pacific Highway turnoff loomed up.I got off there and returned my car to its home, The Old Town Commuter Station. From there I got on the Green Line to the Santa Fe Station. That night, instead of sleep, I thought about all of those sugar plums dancing at my feet.
I'll be seeing you next Thursday. I am the one with blue eyes, blond hair, and legs that never say, "no'.
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