Swing your partner'round and 'round this Valentine's Day

Three years ago, a friend peeled me out of my apartment, insisting we go out dancing like people our age were supposed to do on Saturday nights. What she neglected to tell me until we pulled into the parking lot of Brainerd United Methodist Church, however, was that the type of dancing she had in mind was of the traditional folk variety and reminiscent of square dancing.

Thus was my introduction to contra dancing, which the Chattanooga Traditional Dance Society hosts on the second and fourth Saturday of each month from 8-11 p.m.

As uncertain as I was at first, I loved every second of it. So when I found myself back for an encore last month, I was confident I'd be able to pick up where I'd left off without attending the 30-minute beginners' tutorial held before each session.

I should have known I would not be so lucky.

When I walked into the gymnasium and shed my coat, the first thing I noticed was the sheer diversity among the crowd. More than 80 people packed the room, and among their ranks were dancers of all ages, from 17-70 and beyond. There was even an energetic 7-year-old, her partners gladly hunching down to accommodate the size difference.

There was also, I noticed from the sidelines, a diversity of skill levels. While some of the dancers flew through the dances effortlessly, several others - wearing bright smiles regardless - hesitated every so often as they tip-toed from one move to the next.

Luckily, the dance community is very welcoming and extremely forgiving, says Suzanne Ford, who teaches English Country Dance through CTDS.

"It's not possible to make a mistake that every single one of us has not made many times before," Ford assured me as we watched from the edge of the gym.

Of course, she had never seen my two left feet in action.

My fatal flaw came soon after I partnered up with Katelyn Love. The fellow newcomer, I was relieved to discover, had also skipped the beginners' tutorial and was playing it by ear.

Together, we joined the group of dancers waiting in two parallel lines and listened as the caller, a tie-dye-clad woman named Charlotte Crittenden, broke down the moves for the next choreographed dance. Step by step, we followed Crittenden's directions, learning how to do everything from a basic swing to a California Twirl, a move which had my companion rotate under my raised right arm and ended with both of us facing the opposite direction. I paid close attention while the caller walked us through four-person maneuvers like "the star," where we would all place our left hands together and walk in a circle.

After running through the fairly simple routine twice, the guitarist began to strum his instrument and the fiddler picked up his bow. With the caller chanting out directions above the folk music, Love and I fell into the pattern. Each run-through of the steps ended by naturally leading us into the path of a neighboring couple, whom we then danced the sequence with before the music again whisked us away to repeat it with the next duo along the line.

After a few minutes, I began to feel my worries fade away. That's when everything went downhill.

Myron Madden swings his partner while contra dancing at Brainerd UMC.

Love and I had made several mistakes throughout the dance - a wrong hand grabbed here, a move missed there - but each had been quickly and easily rectified by gentle prodding from those more experienced or waiting for the caller's next command.

At some point during "the star," however, too many of us somehow turned the wrong direction at once, and Love and I found ourselves standing completely still, gaping at another couple, who were clearly just as inexperienced as we were.

For a second, we stood paralyzed. Then, madness.

While everyone else swung in step on either side of us, the four of us scrambled together, trying to twist and turn each other into the correct spot, unable to stop snickering all the while.

The confusion spread when it came time for us to move on to the next couple.

Completely turned around, I pivoted the wrong way and found myself on a collision course with a stout gentleman just a few inches shorter than me, who let out a belly laugh when he realized my predicament. Without missing a beat, he scooped me up by the waist and surrendered to the chaos, hollering his one condition: "At least let me lead!"

With the help of our new companions, Love and I were able to fall back in step with the rest of the dancers. But when the maneuvers led me to join hands with my next partner, a tall, stern-looking gentleman who made no effort to conceal the bewilderment on his face, it took every ounce of willpower I had left not to double over with laughter.

As the night continued, so did the laughs, as I danced with one character after the next. There was Jane Indyk, my saving grace, who gave me the pointers I needed to survive the night ("Look at me when you're swinging or else you'll get dizzy!"). And there was a charming young dancer who nervously narrated every move she made aloud (much like I was doing under my breath).

Myron Madden contra dances with Jane Indyk at Brainerd UMC. Composed of a series of called instructions, the dance form is reminiscent of square dancing.

For the duo, this was date night, Dearing told me as we took a breather on the sidelines.

"This is a great date activity because it makes you come out and do something active," she said, adding that she and her husband have plenty of line dancing experience and can be found swaying to the music every night during Chattanooga's Nightfall Concert Series each summer. "For people that don't do this, I think this would be very stimulating - it gives you something to talk about, for sure."

Contra dancing is also a great outing for singles, Ford is quick to note. No one is required to bring a partner to participate, and guests are encouraged to find someone they've never met to pair up with for each dance. The design allows dancers to meet a revolving door of new people - maybe even someone special.

"There are people I've waltzed with and it's like " Ford said, her voice trailing off as she recalled some mysterious stranger with whom she'd once shared a dance. "It's like you just fall in love right then and there. You may not even know their name!"

Unfortunately, love was not on the agenda for me that night; I was on a mission of mastery.

By my final dance around 11 p.m., I had actually begun to feel like a natural. I tucked my hand behind my back with poise as I bowed to greet new neighbors, and I strutted in time with the music with what I daresay was the slightest hint of confidence.

Just as the caller had promised all of us at the beginning of the night, I had started the experience with no idea what I was doing, and left feeling like an expert.

But there's no way I'm missing out on that beginners' tutorial next time.