Uggh – I just lost my tappetite

A guy threw up in tap class last night. Not on the floor – he made it to the bathroom, thankfully. It was about 112 degrees in the studio and I guess all the shuffle/ball/changes finally got to him. Unfortunately for all of us, the fencing class is held in the studio right before our tap class, and let me tell you, those fencers sweat like pigs. It’s really kind of disgusting – they take off their masks to reveal purplish red faces, with their hair all matted down and stuck to their bloated heads. I hate fencers. I hate them so much. Why don’t they all go back to the Renaissance Faire where they belong?!

So about 30 minutes into the class, this guy I’ll call Cary (because that’s his name), shuffled his way out the door and ran to the bathroom to puke. After I got over my initial disgust, I admired his commitment. He actually came back into class, but just sat on the sidelines sipping water. The teacher offered him some cheddar flavored Goldfish. He wisely declined.

Cary’s kind of an odd duck. Nice enough guy, but he is a little spastic in his dance style. I’m always a little afraid to stand next to him, for fear of being clothes-lined. And he has this annoying habit of practicing while the teacher is trying to show us the moves. I’m learning that it’s so important to listen for the correct rhythm when you’re learning new steps, otherwise you just make a stream of nonsensical noises. So when this guy keeps tapping while the teacher is trying to teach us something new, it has the same effect on me as when my brother would tease me by repeating everything I said:

“Matt, did you take my dollar?”
“Matt, did you take my dollar?”

“Shut up! Give it back to me!”
“Shut up! Give it back to me!”

“Stop saying everything I say!”
“Stop saying everything I say!”

“Quit it – I mean it!”
“Quit it – I mean it!”

“Mommmmmm!!! Matt’s copying me!!!!!!”
“Mommmmmmm!!! Matt’s copying me!!!!!”


Well, at least my brother wasn't into fencing...