My First Night As A Professional Dancer and Learnt That There’s No Privacy In A Small Town

In a small town you’re bound to bump into guys you’ve dated. I once bumped into the lady who waxes my bikini at a party. I once was on a date at a café, bumped into my doctor and had to introduce her to my date. I know nothing about either of these women but they’ve both seen my genitals.

Speaking of genitals, or of being a dick (segue of the week!)… remember Suit Guy? The one who stood me up and forced me to eat four serves of chocolate mousse by myself? I never heard from Suit Guy again until several months later I turned up to Todd Mall markets with my Year 8 dance students. Who should happen to be the sound guy for their debut performance? Suit Guy. “Do you know that guy or something Miss? He’s ce-yuuuuute!”

The same Year 8 dance class wanted to learn ‘Thriller’ after MJ died and became cool again.

I also taught it to my super cool adult dance crew and Flashmobbed it around Alice Springs. We got offered $200 to perform it at a Halloween party at a local nightclub. I teased my hair and wore ripped op shop men’s pants and a tweet jacket that I’d spent the afternoon burning and dirtying up. I rocked up looking like a real deal authentic zombie. Somehow the others had figured out how to look hot AND look like zombies with an effortless and ‘on trend’ combination of ripped stockings and white contact lenses.

We got to the front of the line, got in free, got free champagne and got our 200 bucks. In cash. We were now ‘professional’ dancers. We felt collectively awesome and grown up and living the dream. All was going well until I bumped into the Pub Manager. Then across the room I saw the Breakdancing Mormon (I know, WTF, I thought they didn’t drink?).

Our music started. We cleared the dance floor. We crawled into position. During the 5 minutes and 16 seconds of our routine I saw the Prison Warden, the Tasmanian drunk driver, and another guy I’d previously met from the internet, been on a date with and never seen again until now. Now here they all were. Five of them. In the same pub. Watching me. Looking like an actual (slightly drunk) zombie.

Whatever, I told myself afterwards as I threw back another free champagne, I’m a professional dancer now. Pretty soon I’ll be getting flown around the country choreographing Flashmobs for Motorola and Pepsi advertisements and I’ll probably get a boyfriend as soon as I leave the desert and we’ll laugh about my first night as a professional dancer.

*Flashmobs are hard in a town where there are no large gatherings of people to surprise. Most of the time the amount of people involved in the Flashmob outnumbered the people watching the Flashmob. There are no crowds, no huge shopping malls, nothing to line up for, no huge train stations, well, other than where The Ghan stops, but all the passengers would potentially have heart attacks if anyone other than the Town Crier met them at the station. Yes readers, Alice Springs still has a Town Crier.


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