Over the years from the bandstand I have witnessed some rather strange scenes on the dance floor.
At our weekly residency at a pizza parlor, there were some “characters” out there “dancing.” One, whose name was Henry, always gave the band wives trepidations when he approached the group’s table looking for a dance partner. Henry’s idea of dancing was to bounce on the balls of his feet as if he had springs on the soles of his shoes. The ladies found it hard to follow him or even to know what to do! But Henry was quite oblivious to their puzzlement.
Another strange dancer—but a very likeable guy—was a retired banker who “victimized” his wife of many years—a delightful if long-suffering lady. He would get out on the dance floor with her, but then not move positions, simply holding her in a dance posture while standing in the one spot and, with a stiff leg, banging his foot flatly up and down on the floor several times, then switch to the other leg and do the same; and after that he would walk a couple of paces and repeat the process. But he did beat his feet in time to what we were playing.
Yet another odd dancer was one who did not follow our rhythm. He danced to different music than we were playing. His wife would always patiently try to follow him, but he was hearing music perhaps from another planet, and he had not been imbibing in anything other, perhaps, tha
