Dancing With Racist Dolphins

Dancing With Racist Dolphins

Lazaro is the best female dance teacher in town.  Wait, I phrased that poorly, Lazaro is the best dance instructor for women in town.  A lot of male teachers are like me, good at leading and teaching the basics of female adornments, but Lazaro turns the female role in dancing into an intricate, beautiful art form.

Consequently, he’ll often ask a male student to dance with him so he can display the female movements that add grace to the pass.  While Lazaro is all smiles, I don’t much like dancing with him.  Not because he’s a man, but because he reminds me way to much of swimming with racist dolphins.

While on vacation in Mexico one day my wife surprised me with tickets to “Swim with Dolphins”.  This was odd as my wife neither liked swimming, or animals.  Personally, since we lived on an island in the Atlantic, I kayaked many times with dolphins.  They are magnificent, sleek rapists of the sea.  (Google it, it’s a thing.)

However, I never, ever contemplated jumping off the boat to swim with them.  One flick of their tail and, best case scenario, I’m wheel chair bound for the rest of my life.

Being in a pool with my own personal dolphin was an odd experience.  They aren’t mammals.  Other than large, expressive eyes there is nothing cuddly about them and, like a snake in the water, don’t really seem to cotton to being petted.

A few years later I’m having a Father-Son weekend in Mexico with my then twelve year old son and we pass a “Swim with the Dolphins” pool.  He’s stoked so I buy him a ticket and meander over to the viewer bleachers.

Shortly I’m joined by a tiny blonde exclaiming “Hi’ya Sug….I’m from Tennessee and my house-bin is swimmin’ with dolphins.  You?”  Miss Tennessee, as I’m mentally labeled her, is fun and we watch the class prepare.  We totally ignore our spouse/child to admire a zaftig, middle aged African American in the class standing on her toes and flinging her arms like a toddler on a sugar high.  She’s adorable and I’ve mentally labeled her Miss Congeniality after the then popular Sandra Bullock movie as she’s clearly stoked to swim with the dolphins.

Upon entering the pool all the other fish accept their fate of being in captivity and passively accept their charges.  But not Miss Congeniality’s dolphin, he is porpoisely hostile immediately bearing a rather large arrangement of teeth.

First step is the introduction shaking hands to fins and Miss Congeniality’s shark in dolphin clothing immediately snaps at her.  She’s delighted.  I’m concerned.

This lack of mutual affection continues as I lean over to Miss Tennessee to ask “Is it just me, or do you think that one dolphin is racist?”

“Sug, I was born and raised in the South and can smell racism a mile off.” She replies with a brief pause, then “Yup, he be really racist!”

The last part of class is the photo friendly dolphin kiss goodbye.  As the clueless Miss Congeniality puckers up and leans in, Miss Tennessee and I stand up screaming “No!  Don’t do it!”

The commotion appears to knock some sense into Miss Congenitally suddenly realizing she was about to put her face in front of mouth full of teeth of a wild animal that, literally, hates her.  She flays about getting out of the pool with all the grace of a wounded seal as Flipper sulks away.

And, that, right there, is why there is why I don’t like dancing with Lazaro.  He, too, is sinewy with far too many teeth for me to enjoy dancing with!