Boulder, CO
Wyoming, though covered with beautiful snow-capped mountains and herds of antelope, had no contra dances that we could find. The state found a way to keep us there nonetheless. As we drove through Togwatee Mountain Pass, sleet began to fall, followed by snow. By the time it was dark, driving became impossible, and we were forced to find a hotel for the night. The next day, though it began with sunny skies, churned out worse precipitation than the day before, and once again, we wound up spending the night in a Wyoming hotel. Only on the third day did we finally escape into Colorado, where we would dance that Friday.
Upon hearing about our arrival in Denver, a woman from the dance community took it upon herself to show us around the city. She took us to The Mercury Cafe, which she called the coolest place in the city. They provided organic food on the first floor and nightly dance lessons on the second. After dinner, she brought us to a weekly open jam session where she played banjo and introduced us to some of the other musicians. When we left the session to return to the Mercury Cafe for open tango dancing, she handed us an armful of fliers and newsletters advertising local dances.
Though we spent the week in Denver, we danced in Boulder at their twice monthly contra dance. This event was held in one of the most beautiful dance halls of the trip. Red lanterns and a giant chandelier hung from the ceiling. Couches, tables, and chairs bordered the dance space and paintings of dancing couples decorated the walls. We later learned that the building had once been a warehouse before a dancer bought and renovated it. Many folks in the dancing community helped him tear down the cubicles inside, install the dancing floor, and perfect the acoustics, to create The Avalon Ballroom.
A beginners’ session was going on as Dave and I entered the Avalon. “People will be looking into your eyes as you dance,” we heard the instructor say. “It’s very intimate, but there are no long term commitments! Armed with this knowledge, we flirt up and down the sets.” With this, he ended the session, gave up the microphone to the caller, and the dance began.
The band that night consisted of two musicians: Grammy award winning violinist, Eric Levine, and Seth Houston, a New England keyboardist we knew who recently moved to Colorado. We were excited to hear Seth’s creative keyboard style once again, and lined up for the first contra. The music started out slowly, with Seth playing solo, then gained speed and complexity as the fiddler joined him. This was a pattern that continued throughout the night.
I found a partner for the next contra and though it was only the second dance of the night, there were already four sets filling the hall. As my partner lead me to the shortest of them, I found out that he was visiting Boulder from L.A., where he had recently relocated, and that I had danced with him at the zesty contra in Pasadena.
In Dave’s set, a man who he remembered as a visitor to the Nelson, NH dance noticed Dave’s Nelson t-shirt, claiming that he almost wore his own that night. In mine, a girl I recognized from a festival in upstate New York eyed my skirt and told me she had gotten the same one there. “We could have each had a twin tonight,” Dave laughed as we sat out the next dance together.
The dances went on for much longer than we were used to, and we wound up sitting out more often for lack of stamina. We were grateful to see heaping piles of snacks in the kitchen at the break to replenish our energy.
After the break, the owner of the Avalon came up to the stage and gave a lecture about proper footwear. He told everyone to try to make a mark on the floor by jumping up and down or dragging their feet along it. “Now,” he said, “if you were able to make a mark, it would be great if you could come with different shoes next time.” “Also,” he continued, “I’ve found that certain shoes, like mine, have ‘eraser’ soles, where you can scuff out a mark that’s already on the floor. If you’ve got a pair of those, do your best to drag your feet all over this hall!” I later saw him scuffing the floor intently with his “magic soles.”
Dave and I decided to do another dance together later in the night and started a fifth line in the center of the floor. The caller hopped down from the stage and stood in front of us. “I’m going to dance this one too,” he announced, “and I’m going to join this set. Are you two experienced with proper dances?” he whispered to us, then looked down at Dave’s Nelson T-shirt and said, “Oh, of course you are!” He began to teach contra corners, using us as his demonstration neighbors, and Dave and I were sure that he was about to call Chorus Jig. Instead, the dance wound up being Rory O’Moore, a dance both Dave and I had heard of many times before from the balance figure with the same name, but had never danced.
Dave and I agreed that the caller that night, Ed Hall, was one of our favorites of the trip. During one dance, while we were sitting out on one of the couches, he walked off the stage to join us, periodically calling into the wireless mic he carried with him. We discussed the trip with him, and learned he used to live in New Hampshire and call around New England before moving to Colorado. We continued to talk, and finally, he turned to us and said, “Sorry, I should end this one,” then into the mic, “One more time! Circle to the left!”
We volunteered for cleanup after the dance was over, and wound up leaving the hall close to midnight. “Don’t forget to keep hydrated,” the volunteer coordinator told us, as we headed out. We later learned that at Boulder’s high altitude, this was a common farewell.
-Boulder, CO
