Go contra-dancing, that is.

I have some friends who love contra-dancing and go nearly every Saturday night. So I went with them one night, just to try it out. 

At the time, I didn’t know about being an Aspie, and so I didn’t know what a disaster the evening would be. Neither, of course, did my friends, who just wanted me to have a good time. In the light of my diagnosis and sensory assessment, it’s quite funny to think about all the things that went wrong that night.

When I first arrived, I walked into a large room in which people of all ages were standing around, waiting for something to begin. At one end of the large, crowded room, there was a live band warming up, playing amplified fiddle and keyboard music. The music, while beautiful, was quite loud, as were the voices of all the people trying to be heard above it. 

And then, the dance began. I found, to my horror, that I actually had to touch people I didn’t know. Worse yet, they had to touch me. Lightly, of course. Did I mention that light touch brings out my karate skills? Be reassured, I didn’t use them, but only because my partner unexpectedly spun me around.

Fortunately, one of my friends was still nearby. “Help!” I shouted. ”The room is spinning!”

Because she is a kind-hearted and practical person, my friend paused a moment to give me some sound advice: “You won’t get dizzy if you look directly into the eyes of your partner. Go ahead. Try it.” 

What? Look into the eyes of a stranger? I might be giving off nonverbals that would get me into trouble in the parking lot. Remember Thelma and Louise? These are the things I worry about.

I didn’t have much time to worry, however, because a few moments later, everyone had to change partners. Change! I was just getting used to one total stranger, and now we’re onto the next one, and I had to look into his eyes, too.

And did I mention that I didn’t know any of the dance steps? My friends had told me that everyone was very nice to beginners, and that I should keep trying and watch what people do. I’d catch on eventually, they said. The problem, of course, is that I cannot learn a blessed thing by watching people do it. So I stood there, totally confused, until another kind-hearted person came up to me and said, “It’s okay. Just listen to the directions.”

Listen to the directions? You mean, the verbal directions? Without a pen and paper for taking notes? With the amplified music playing, and all the people talking and laughing, how can I possibly hear the directions? Even if I could, I’d need a video camera, a set of printed instructions, a diagram, and lots of quiet time at home to get it all figured out.  But, it was too late for any of that now, wasn’t it?

Finally, one of my friends shouted, “If you’re feeling overwhelmed, why don’t you just sit down and listen to the music?” That seemed an excellent idea. So I sat down, and I watched a small village dancing round and round in an enclosed space with amplified fiddle and keyboard music.  Everyone was looking as though they were having so much fun. I wished I could be like them. I wondered how it was possible that I could be getting dizzy watching them, when they weren’t getting dizzy dancing around and around.

After an hour, I was gone. I mean, I was still in the room, but I was gone. And then it occurred to me: I have car keys and my car is outside. I think I can even remember what it looks like.

So, I said my goodbyes, to the disappointment of my friends, and I staggered outside into the cold night air. It was blessedly quiet. I got into my car, breathed a sigh of relief, and took the slow route home. I’d never enjoyed the quiet so much.

For many people, contra-dancing is fun. If your senses don’t get overloaded by visual, auditory, and tactile stimuli, it’s fun. If you can learn dance steps just by watching them, and if you can follow verbal directions, it’s great fun. If you can make eye contact and don’t mind spinning around, it’s even more fun. And if you don’t find crowds profoundly disorienting, and if you can filter out background noise, it’s wonderfully fun.

Unfortunately, I can’t do any of those things. So when people ask me whether I’d like to go contra-dancing, I just say, “I’d love to, but I can’t.”   

© 2009 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg