When I first met John Vitek—the dance pro assigned to me for Dancing for the Arts, the Rochester Arts Council fundraiser that pairs local “celebrities” with real dancers in a Dancing-with-the-Stars-type competition—he told me that he wanted to “win this thing.”
He told me that he and partner Laura Lee had taken home the Judge’s Choice trophy his first year. That he and Heidi Mestad lost in a controversial coin toss the second year. And that this year—his third—he wanted back on top.
Had I ever taken a dance class? he asked.
Was I, by chance, a former gymnast?
Could I do a round-off?
I only said “maybe” to the last question because I felt so bad about answering “no” to the first two.
For the next 10 weeks, John—he of past wins, endless optimism, and bottomless patience—would be teaching me to do a quick step. Emphasis on “quick.” Our song, “Hey Pachuco,” had a crazy fast beat.
“Don’t worry,” John said. “We’re going to slow it down to about 96 percent.”
I’ve got to say, not a great comfort.
After the first few lessons, I was more scared than when I started. “That’s normal,” John said. “That means you’re right on track.”
I didn’t feel right on track. But, as the weeks went on, the routine started infiltrating my life. I played “Hey Pachuco” on repeat, listening for my cues. I heard John’s voice saying, “Feet together!” and “Smile!” and “Soft knees!” when I practiced in my living room. I may have practiced round-offs at work.
At some point, and I’m not sure exactly when it happened, I went from “why did I ever agree to this?” to “if I broke my leg in a freak accident and couldn’t perform on April 12, I’d be disappointed.”
And then, suddenly, it’s April 12—and there I am, spray tanned, fake eyelashed, hair set with a full can of hairspray, and backstage with all of the other dancers. The nervousness in the room is palpable, but underlined with excitement. There’s Aaron Benike in cowboy boots practicing his kicks with pro Julie Sobolewski. Audrey Betcher in a dress her 15-year-old daughter made. Julie Jones laughing and saying, “I’ve decided just to have fun with it!” Dan Litzinger—slated for the final performance—looking fairly chill, considering.
And then, suddenly, John and I are up.
The announcer says our names and there’s no turning back because our music is starting and then John is landing his round-off and so am I and I hear my people, who drove hundreds of mile to see me, scream, and then I’m jumping into John’s arms and I’m spinning in circles and then there’s the slow part that’s not slow and then it’s fast and I’m pivoting and pivoting and pivoting and so dizzy but there’s no time to think about it because we’re doing our butterfly moves and I spin and we’re done and my heart is pounding and my people are screaming and the judges say nice things that I’ll hear later on the video because all I’m thinking is “We did it! We did it! We did it!” and then we’re walking off the stage and I feel incredible, and one of my people runs up to me and says, “We are so proud of you!”
And I’m so proud of me, too.
And it feels like that’s enough—to have done it. But then, when the judges announce the winners, and I’m sure it’s going to be Aaron Benike and Julie Sobolewski because, man, they were incredible, it’s John and me who are called.
John and me!
And even though the thing that makes me most proud is being brave enough to get up on the stage in the first place… I will tell you this: I didn’t let go of that trophy for the rest of the night.
He told me that he and partner Laura Lee had taken home the Judge’s Choice trophy his first year. That he and Heidi Mestad lost in a controversial coin toss the second year. And that this year—his third—he wanted back on top.
Had I ever taken a dance class? he asked.
Was I, by chance, a former gymnast?
Could I do a round-off?
I only said “maybe” to the last question because I felt so bad about answering “no” to the first two.
For the next 10 weeks, John—he of past wins, endless optimism, and bottomless patience—would be teaching me to do a quick step. Emphasis on “quick.” Our song, “Hey Pachuco,” had a crazy fast beat.
“Don’t worry,” John said. “We’re going to slow it down to about 96 percent.”
I’ve got to say, not a great comfort.
After the first few lessons, I was more scared than when I started. “That’s normal,” John said. “That means you’re right on track.”
I didn’t feel right on track. But, as the weeks went on, the routine started infiltrating my life. I played “Hey Pachuco” on repeat, listening for my cues. I heard John’s voice saying, “Feet together!” and “Smile!” and “Soft knees!” when I practiced in my living room. I may have practiced round-offs at work.
At some point, and I’m not sure exactly when it happened, I went from “why did I ever agree to this?” to “if I broke my leg in a freak accident and couldn’t perform on April 12, I’d be disappointed.”
And then, suddenly, it’s April 12—and there I am, spray tanned, fake eyelashed, hair set with a full can of hairspray, and backstage with all of the other dancers. The nervousness in the room is palpable, but underlined with excitement. There’s Aaron Benike in cowboy boots practicing his kicks with pro Julie Sobolewski. Audrey Betcher in a dress her 15-year-old daughter made. Julie Jones laughing and saying, “I’ve decided just to have fun with it!” Dan Litzinger—slated for the final performance—looking fairly chill, considering.
And then, suddenly, John and I are up.
The announcer says our names and there’s no turning back because our music is starting and then John is landing his round-off and so am I and I hear my people, who drove hundreds of mile to see me, scream, and then I’m jumping into John’s arms and I’m spinning in circles and then there’s the slow part that’s not slow and then it’s fast and I’m pivoting and pivoting and pivoting and so dizzy but there’s no time to think about it because we’re doing our butterfly moves and I spin and we’re done and my heart is pounding and my people are screaming and the judges say nice things that I’ll hear later on the video because all I’m thinking is “We did it! We did it! We did it!” and then we’re walking off the stage and I feel incredible, and one of my people runs up to me and says, “We are so proud of you!”
And I’m so proud of me, too.
And it feels like that’s enough—to have done it. But then, when the judges announce the winners, and I’m sure it’s going to be Aaron Benike and Julie Sobolewski because, man, they were incredible, it’s John and me who are called.
John and me!
And even though the thing that makes me most proud is being brave enough to get up on the stage in the first place… I will tell you this: I didn’t let go of that trophy for the rest of the night.