Retardation Nation: Boogie Wonderland (Part 3)

So the four of us were left on our own, going for classes without a care in the world. But it wouldn't be long until July 30 would come creeping around the corner, and we would eventually have to start worrying about the performance we were going to stage at the Grand Finals.

2 WEEKS TO GO
We were each given our event passes and dancing gear: the generic black sponsor-logo tee and flame-emblazoned bandana with the density of cardboard.

Unfortunately, as with most situations that involve more than two parties, things got a little misconstrued. Either that or I’m too polite to say that it was disgracefully disorganized. Take for instance this conversation, which I initiated with one of the event management reps:

“Okay, so the contract says that the last 4 classes will be allocated to practicing our final dance...”
“Yes, but these classes will have to be done in your own time, your have to arrange dates between the dancers so you can all meet up together and come up with something.”
“Huh? Sooo... these aren’t really ‘classes’, right?”
“Yes, they are, you still have to do it...”
“But-... You-... Nevermind. So we have to do this by ourselves, or are we supposed to get one of the instructors to help us?”
“Uhh... Up to you.”
“Uh, right. Which means we’re supposed to do this in the dance studio itself?”
“Up to you.”
“…Oookay. So these 4 classes… Are these part of the 12-class quota which we’ve been given to complete?”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Can I call you back later?”

(She doesn't.)

For us to be allocated only four hours to learn and perfect a three-minute opening dance routine fueled my doubts about staging something that wouldn’t look like a primary school variety concert performance. Flashes of me reenacting ‘choo-choo train’ gestures to the Banana Boat Song in puffy sleeves and lipstick-smudged cheeks made me break out frequently in cold sweat.

After much arguing over the song selection, we settled with a combination of Ciara's 1, 2 Step and Missy Elliot's Lose Control - the latter song being a magnificent but nail-bitingly fast ice-breaker. Bernard mixed the two brilliantly and burned CDs for all of us. We rose to the challenge.

ONE WEEK TO GO
Luckily we managed to arrange 2 long sessions over a weekend with Lily, but only long after giving up the attempt to accommodate to everyone’s schedules. Sin Yee was visiting her folks in Perak, but we were sure that she wouldn’t have problem catching up later. Lily had come up with a riveting routine for us, but being our instructor, she inevitably was the only one who looked hot doing it. She had made sure that the most complex part of the performance - the 'Lose Control' sequence - had no repetition of moves. Alas, there is never an easy route to looking cool in this industry.

The beautiful Lily... who brought beer for the guys to chug down before kicking into high gear. Bless her good little heart.

This beat flows right through her chest.

The anxiety heightened after we still needed to arrange more rehearsal sessions on our own thereafter. Sin Yee was back but Bernard and I had barely memorized the moves in detail to teach her properly. With the fourth dancer being neither reliable nor contactable, and no more opportunity for guidance and supervision, we felt like sitting ducks. Sin Yee, however, managed to finally squeeze in a speedy one-on-one session with the perpetually busy Lily. And in an ironic twist, Sin Yee helped piece our act together.

Bernard and Sin Yee went shopping at Petaling Street for appropriate pants; due to financial constraints we eventually settled for whatever basic baggy denim we could dig from our wardrobes.

We ended up spending the last few evenings in Bernard’s condo gym in Kota Damansara. We toyed around with ideas for our solo parts and were getting our moves down just swimmingly... but we were yet to practice as a full group. We still heard of nothing from Sharol, and we had no choice but to loathe his seemingly casual absence.

Sin Yee warms up