...and there was absolutely NO pun intended in that title.
Years ago, my two sisters and I decided to take a tap dance class. I was 17, which would have made Katydid 25 and Frogger 28. None of us ever had the chance to take dance lessons when we were young, so we signed up for a _____-week class. (I honestly can't remember how long it was. Eight weeks? Twelve weeks?) I don't remember whose idea it was either, but I do remember we had a blast. There was no dance recital or other public celebratory performance at the end of the session, but I assure you I can still do some of the steps today. I just got up and did one of our little routines just to be sure I wasn't typing a lie, but I'm not about to videotape it and put it on the blog. (Flap-step-shuffle-ball change-hop-kick-shuffle-shuffle)
At least not today.
We took lessons and practiced on the stage area of a gymnasium, behind one of those big old heavy curtains. I'm sure there was something else going on in the gym, and that has nothing to do with this story.
My niece, Frogger's daughter, sometimes went with us to dance class, where she played outside on the playground equipment and ducked inside every now and then to see if we were finished. One day she was coming inside, using a door that was on an upper level of the gym (I can't picture it myself, so I'm sorry I can't describe it any better than that....it was a long time ago). When she opened the door, she startled a man standing on the landing of the stairway, causing him to whirl around and touch her shirt......
......with his erect penis.
Apparently his vantage point on the landing allowed him to see over the gym stage curtain, and he could observe our class tap-tap-tap dancing to our hearts' content. And other things' content too, apparently.
My niece told us about it, and as she was finishing her story, she spotted the man. One of us (I don't remember which one) followed him to his car, got his tag number, and I think he was arrested, but that part of the story is fuzzy. (Katydid and Frogger, you'll have to fill in the missing details. I was slap full of being the center of my own universe at that time, so I don't remember.) My niece, who would have been seven at the time, sounded almost like she felt sorry for him when she told me, "It was so swollen, there was NO WAY he could have zipped his pants up." I'm glad I wasn't the one who had to explain to her why it was swollen.
I'm not sure what he found so...... attractive? Enticing? Alluring? It's not like any of us in the class looked like the professionals on Dancing with the Stars. We wore leotards, but we also wore little skirts over them. At least I did, specifically because I didn't look like one of the professionals on Dancing with the Stars. We weren't the Rockettes or anything.
I was reminded of this incident by a similar story on the news this afternoon. I think it was about a flasher who is exposing himself to women at an Atlanta-area gym. Those things seem to garner a lot more attention these days. Perverts just weren't news back in the 70's.
3 comments:
I woke up in the middle of the night being disgusted by the story of that poor maid who was assaulted by the IMF Chief. Glad he was forced to resign and I hope he might keep it zipped up next time.
I never encountered a flasher but I have a good friend who did. And you're right: they are hard to explain.
I was told a certain person I know has been known to flash people occasionally. I'm glad he's never flashed me. I'm afraid I would start laughing which might deflate his ego (or deflate something)!
I had to burn the shirt she was wearing when this event occurred; nothing else would satisfy my prescious daughter. I was in Texas at the time this happened, and none of you would tell me about it until you could do so face-to-face.
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