All the Way Around

Between Asheville and Atlanta, we took a slight detour to have lunch with Sara, a high school friend of Lisa’s. Halfway through our Firehouse subs, we told her about contra dancing and she decided to drive two and a half hours south with us to see what it was like for herself.

Atlanta is truly a labyrinth city, and our circuitous route took us through a strange part of town. I sat anxiously in the back seat as Lisa navigated her friend past the neon lights of strip clubs and fast food restaurants.

“Hold on!” yelled Sara as she pulled a U-turn into traffic and took a long drag from her cigarette. “I’m quitting tomorrow,” she added, flicking ash out the window. She’s in her last year of nursing school.

We arrived, late as usual, at the Morningside Baptist church and headed inside. Sara nervously asked us what to expect. We assured her everything would be fine, then paid her way and prepared to dance.

The hall looked remarkably similar to my high school gymnasium. Everything was there: from the drop down basketball hoops to the gloss of the waxy wooden floor. Even the smell was the same. However, instead of volley ball nets and soccer goals, the gym was filled with musicians, dancers, and sound equipment. One very long line of dancers stretched almost the length of the basketball court. Some people sat out watching and waiting for partners on the rolled out bleachers on the side.

The caller, Rob Harper, wore overalls and stood on a small stage. As we walked in, he was in the middle of calling a “do-si-do-si-do-si-do”. Fetchin’ Cat backed him up with some great tunes that did a good job of filling the large room.

My first partner of the evening was Sara, and I danced with her several times over the course of the night. By the end, she couldn’t stop talking about how addicted she had become. “I’m going to go home and tell all my friends about it!” she declared when the night was over. She caught on right away with both contra dance and waltzing, and she definitely knew how to have fun in the line.

If forced at gunpoint to describe the style of Atlanta dancers in one word, I would choose “smooth”. The crowd was on the older side, mostly people in their forties and fifties, and was experienced. They knew how to give weight and keep balance in swings. During a walkthrough early in the evening, I worried that we were in for a rough dance. But neighbor after neighbor connected with me at just the right moment, and we glided through every step.

The program was nice and varied. It included a circle dance, some squares, and a healthy amount of waltzing, though no other couples dances. I was able to waltz with both Lisa and Sara multiple times.

The second half held a surprise. The caller announced a special proper dance–CHORUS JIG!! Lisa grabbed me and we danced our first Chorus Jig together of the trip. We were the only ones singing once again, and we realized part of the way through how strange it was to see it danced so far outside of New England. Lisa found the answer talking to a man she recognized from a Vermont folk festival. He had requested the tune, and did so as a part of a quest to spread the idea of what he called a “Nelson Dance”–a dance in which all of the dancers know the dance without calls. He knew that Chorus Jig had to be a part of it. The caller, an Atlanta local, later told me that anyone dancing long enough would encounter the dance sooner or later, and was happy to call it in Atlanta.

We left the dance in high spirits, with Sara raving about how hooked she had become. Lisa and I were excited to be a part of the “first contra dance” story she’ll inevitably have to tell people who ask how she got into it. Atlanta was a great place to begin.

-Atlanta, GA