Horns blared, cars were packed like Sardines on the road. This is how it feels inside my head when I get over stimulated, except in my head there are six lanes of traffic instead of a one-way road and I can't move.
This is the worst my day will bring, I think, ballroom competition, here I come!
Finally, we, my parents and I, arrive at the high school. We walk straight to the gym, get our hands stamped, and walk in to the gymnasium.
Never mind, I think this is the worst my day will bring.
The gym had bleachers on both sides with a person in each seat. Above the bleachers, in the upper deck, I saw flashes of red, blue, and green, the costumes for the Open routines. Tables were on the back side and the dance floor had rushes of energy on one side and graceful movements, the other. At the on-deck area, dancers were anxiously awaiting their chance to shine. I could tell this was going to be a straining day. It was loud, crowded, and I was sure the florescent lights were going to give me a headache.
We spot my team and walk past rows of people in the bleachers to reach the table. I set my things down and find a seat. I am immediately engulfed in conversation. I had people fixing my hair and my makeup almost instantaneously.
There were so many people! My heart pounded loud in my ears adding to the stimulation. It's going to be a late night, I thought, these things always end late.
When the competition finally started, my friends weaved their way into a sea of black and white. They were so good! The music began and my friends started bouncing with the beat, they were dancing the cha-cha. My heart pounded with excitement. I was positive they would get called back! People were wooping and yelling, cheering and clapping, the noise could have given a deaf man a headache, but that was OK, I needed to support my team.
The music ended and my friends eagerly checked the screen for their call-back, it wasn't there. With long faces, they walked back to our table, “We didn't get called back.” they said.
“Really? I thought you would, you were fantastic out there!”
The next round of dance began, the music started, and people were cheering for their respective teams. Rounds and rounds of dancing followed. The anticipation was beating on me like a drum . The competition was put on hold for lunch, there were more rounds of dance, and then it was my turn.
My partner and I walked onto the floor. We were in position, the music was blaring, and we started at a syncopated beat. The monster of frustration over-came me, but I kept my cool, we tried to get on beat but it was a complete failure. I knew, deep down in my heart, we would not get called back. When the music ended, my suspicions were confirmed. We walked back to the team's table to watch the hours of dancing to come. Even though, the dance competition was mostly just repetition, it was still extremely fun.
As I was watching, a partnership seemed quite familiar. As I watched that couple more and more, I realized it was Mason, my brother! I searched his back for his number and once it was in view, I began cheering for him with all my heart. His partner's dress looked as though it came right off the screen of a silent movie! It wasn't the uniform black skirt and white shirt that was the requirement for syllabus, it was the uniqueness of the Open competitions.
All in all, I felt the competition was well worth the over stimulation. Even though, I was tired, it was a success! I mean, I danced, supported my team, and watched Mason get fifth place in the Open Standard. That's a lot to do with a tired and injured brain. What a day!
If this is the worst a dance competition will bring, I will do it over and over again!