Dance Fever

I can't dance, plain and simple. I'm not ashamed of it. It's just a fact of

my life. Every choreographer I've ever worked with has learned this early on, and always sticks me in the back during dance numbers. Why Tom decided to bring me up front is beyond me.

Tomorrow night, Cabaret opens. The last song has a few little dance moves in it. The moves aren't actually difficult, it's just that we've only run it twice with music, and I don't know the song at all, so I'm never sure where to come in. I thought I had it down tonight though.

There I was, up front, unable to see anyone else dancing. I was swinging my pelvis, popping my knees, all while owning the mesh halter shirt I have to wear. Then, I heard the director and choreographer laughing in the back of the theatre. I kept going, thinking to myself, someone must be messing up really bad. The thought never even occurred to me that it was me.

Finally, someone behind me whispered, Scott, we're not supposed to be dancing yet. I felt like such an idiot. I begged the choreographer to move me into the back so I could just follow everyone else. He won't. I asked if we could just cut the song from the show, and they said no. I don't know what to do. All I know for certain, if I mess up tomorrow night, you better believe I'll be doing it in style.