Hot (and I don't mean Sexy) Dancers

SECRETS OF SCHEHEREZADE’S

Though the stories are true, the names have been changed to protect the guilty,
I mean innocent!

John Ruskin (1819-1900)
“When love and skill work together, expect a masterpiece.”

Hot (and I don't mean Sexy) Dancers

Literally! Some of the most enjoyable times I have ever shared with my girls, is our many road trips. One or two times a year we would take a trip from Fort Worth to Sedalia, Missouri. This is an eight-hour drive. We always have four to seven girls in Sheba’s SUV. With that many women in the vehicle, it was always a wonderful time. Well, almost always.

One particular trip, Sheba and I were the guest instructors at the July seminar. Sheba, Ophelia, Mischa and myself were in one vehicle. Three others accompanied us in a second vehicle. The seven of us arrived in Kansas City. We always enjoy Friday evenings watching Zaina Ali perform at Tasso’s. If you every get to Kansas City, check it out. Her show is always outstanding, the food is wonderful and Zaina’s partner in crime, Bill does fun, wonderful music and entertainment before and after her shows. We had a grand time as always, by midnight we made our way to our hotel in Sedalia. (Whoops, forgot to change Zaina’s, Bill’s and Tasso’s name. Oh well, plug for them.)

The next morning we woke early and taught an excellent crowd and the evening show was full of talented entertainers. As always, I was very proud of my girls performances! Afterward, with adjoining rooms, we stayed up talking and cutting up until well into early morning hours.

When we woke, our journey home began. The girls in the other car headed out before us. The four of us stopped for a leisurely breakfast before finally beginning our long trip home. Ophelia was driving. Mischa was co-pilot. Sheba and I were in the back seat working on a new choreography. Even though the hour was still only nine in the morning, it was already very, very hot. The car’s air conditioning was clearly not working properly.

Being Sunday, assistance was difficult to find. Many of the town’s between here and there are small, but there is almost always a Walmart, most with an auto shop. Unfortunately, the first we came to only had one air conditioning specialist and he wasn't in on weekends. After spending a little shopping time to enjoy the Walmart air conditioning, we had to move on.

Rolling down the windows didn’t stop the sweat from poured. Admittedly we were spoiled. Comfort was what we desired. I'm by no means a mechanical genius, but was willing to give it a shot. I suggested possibly the fuse had blown. The next town we came to had an auto supply store, but no open garages. Sheba pulled the manual from the glove box, while I crawled under the dash to locate the fuse box. I removed the correct fuse and we inquired in the auto parts store for a replacement. As luck would have it, they didn’t have the fuse we needed. The gentleman working there was kind enough to call their store in the next town and, yeah, they had one.

Again braving the heat, we piled into the car and continued on our way. Thirty minutes later we arrived at the next auto part store. The gentleman at the counter gave us the fuse, but could not install it for us. He was the only one working and couldn't leave the counter (though I had my doubts he knew much more than I about cars). No worries, I took the fuse out so I put it back.

Noon was quickly approaching and the temp was already above 100 degrees. With out new fuse in place, we excitedly returned to the car, rolled up the windows and started on our way. We turned the blower on high. After 10 minutes, the air still blew hot. Again the windows came down. By now we were all getting pretty cranky. We called Sheba’s husband, hoping for some helpful advice. The only hope he had to offer, was possibly that the new fuse might need to reboot, if we turned it off for a bit, maybe it would reboot itself. It was worth a shot.

Stopping for lunch seemed to be a good idea. Only a light lunch, mind you. It was much too hot to enjoy food. But the air conditioning felt great. We spread the meal out over ninety minutes, hoping the extended time would help. Home was still six hours away.

The long lunch did no good what so ever. After some discussion, we decided to hold up in a hotel until nightfall. All of us would have to return to work without sleep, but frying in the car didn’t seem a pliable option at the time. There was only one motel in town, and let’s just say it was not a four star motel, but by this point we were too hot to care. By the time we signed in it was almost 2:00. Arriving in our room, we found only a window unit air conditioner. Wouldn’t you know it?

And of course, we turned it up high, but the air it released was no cooler than the car’s. So we headed back to the office for another room. Once again, the air conditioner didn’t work. Three times had to be the charm. Back we went to the office.

It was after 4:00 by that time, again the air in this room was no better than the last two. Cranky was not even near the attitude of our foursome. We now had turned into four full-blown witches, with a capital “B”. Thank goodness we are very good friends and didn’t take it out on each other. After cold showers, we laid on top of our cover-ups (no way would we lay our bodies on the nasty bed) in our underwear with the door to the hall open. Desperately, we prayed for a breeze. Modesty was not a consideration.

Since the room was as hot as the car, it didn’t make sense to wait any longer. We finally decided to give it up and take our chances on heat exhaustion. Leaving now, it would still be well after midnight, before we got home. Again we got in the car and started out.

We were on the road only 15 or 20 minutes and Sheba and I began to feel cool air. Praise the Lord! It must have kicked in. We quickly rolled up the windows. Our spirits started to rise. Then Sheba and I heard strange, muffled snickers from the two dancers in the front seat. Sheba and I shared a confused look.

“OK girls,” Sheba asked. “What’s up?” Now the snickers turned to complete laughter. We, in the back seat, were still very confused.

“I am so sorry!” Mischa could hardly get the words out. “I am so sorry!”

“What?” I asked.

“See that little yellow button?” Sheba and I looked at her. “I think I might have accidentally hit it when I changed the radio. I think it has something to do with the air conditioner. Oh my goodness, I am so sorry.”

Both Sheba and I were silent for a long moment. Seven hours delay, seven hours of monstrous heat. Mischa stopped laughing, and looked at us with wary, sorrowful eyes. Sheba and I looked at each other than met Ophelia’s eyes in the rear view mirror. All together we broke into riotous laughing. It could have been delirium, but suddenly it was hilarious. Thankfully, the button pushing cured the problem and we continued the trip truly appreciating who ever invented the air-conditioner.

Mischa is one of the most responsible, professionally together women I know. Needless to say, she will never live down putting us through those torturous seven hours. She doesn’t make many boo boos, but when she does, it’s a humdinger!

If you, a friend or one of your dancer's made a super duper boo boo, were they brave as Mischa to eventually own up to it? If so, click on 'comment' below and give us a giggle!