by JOHN CUSTODIO

The fantasy

It’s Gay Pride Day in San Antonio, Texas. I forego the usual circuit-type dance party for a more traditional Country & Western event. It’s a ho-down, and this ho wants to get down. Pride always throws my libido into overdrive.

When I arrive at the bar, I note with satisfaction that I’ve made the right outfit choices. I’m wearing tight black jeans and a black denim shirt, my belt has a big buckle and my boots are pointy. As I stand at the edge of the dancefloor to survey the scene, I feel a tapping on my shoulder.

“Excuse me, may I, um, I mean, would you?” I can’t believe my eyes. The man holding out his hand to me, this man with the poor verbal skills—well, I’d recognize those steely grey eyes and that strong, masculine jawline anywhere. Entranced, I allow him to take my hand and lead me onto the floor where, miraculously, I execute a complicated choreography in perfect synchronicity with hundreds of other dancers.

Every move comes naturally, and I even know their names. My kick ball changes are as smooth as my shuffle steps, my military pivot turns as graceful as my vaudeville hops. As the song comes to an end and gets replaced by a ballad, my Marlboro man manoeuvres me into a two-step formation.

“Where,” he asks me, “did you learn to do the washboard rub?” The look in his eyes is pure admiration, and I hope it doesn’t come off as too coy and demure, but I look down when I answer him.

“Montreal. Club Bolo.”

The reality

In real life, the chances of my being able to dance anything more complex than a two-step are close to zilch. However, the chances of my Marlboro man having heard of Montreal’s Club Bolo would be very good indeed. The Club’s in-house performance troupe is famous throughout the C&W line-dancing world.

Anyone who has ever seen the troupe perform (they’re in Divers/Cité every year, and they do a lot of AIDS fundraisers) would understand why. Their musical choices are fun, their choreography is eclectic and innovative, and they keep their lines very straight. Line dancing is all about keeping straight lines.

I learned this the hard way when I went to a Friday-evening class for beginners. It took a lot to haul my choreographically-challenged ass there, and I was reluctant at first to take part, but once the class began I found it hard to stay put. I credit the instructors for that. Their sense of humour made it all infectiously fun, putting everyone at ease.

There are classes throughout the week at Club Bolo, and after class the bar stays open. Everyone is invited to stay and put their newly learned moves into practice. There are about as many women as there are men, and probably more couples than single people on the make. It’s a convivial scene where people actually talk to each other; it is definitely not for those who prefer to stand and pose and give off icy attitude. I was not surprised to learn that the Club is a non-profit organization.

Now, I’ll admit, C&W line dancing is not to everyone’s taste, but the regular club scene was getting very stale for me. Very stale. I wanted a change from the same-old-same-old, and I took it as a bad sign when night clubs started having sequels. Besides, I’m never going to meet my Marlboro man at Unity 2, now, am I? •

For more information, call Club Bolo
(960 Amherst) at 849-4777, or check out their
Web site at www.clubbolo.com

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