THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, May 19, 1995 TAG: 9505180294
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 13 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Cover Story
SOURCE: Pam Starr
LENGTH: Medium: 59 lines
I entered the Stepping Out nightclub last Saturday with a bit of trepidation. The shag? I thought. What the heck was that? The only shag I ever got was a particularly bad haircut in fifth grade.
But after watching the graceful and sexy dancers on the floor for a few seconds I couldn't turn away. They were enchanting, mesmerizing, and oh, so sensuous. It was a lot like eating peanut M & M's: You can't stop at just one. I couldn't stop at one song.
So there I am, sitting at a table right next to the dance floor with Mac McLaughlin, president of the Virginia Beach Shag Club. I'm trying to figure out what the dance steps are and how they're performed. They looked incredibly complex. It's one-two-three count to your right, one-two-three to your left, then one step to the right and one to the left. Of course, shaggers add spins, twirls and other movements to make it harder.
Mac assured me the steps were simple and that anyone could learn how to shag. Even clumsy ol' me.
``C'mon, I'll teach you,'' he said gamely. I balked with that innate fear of looking foolish.
``Uh, no, not yet,'' I said, still looking at those fluid couples. ``I couldn't do that.''
Mac just smiled and sat back. He told me they teach free shag lessons every Wednesday night at 7 p.m. Maybe I would want to take a class then?
Nope. Too late. The story was due Wednesday afternoon. It was now or never.
``OK, let's dance,'' I said to Mac.
We faced each other on the dance floor, holding hands. I tried to follow Mac's lead and hopped three counts to my right, three counts to my left, then one to the right and one to the left. Only you're not supposed to hop like you're doing the polka. You're supposed to glide. You're also supposed to keep your head up and look at your partner. I was stuck at my feet.
But Mac, ever gallant, was patient and kept after me.
``You're doing fine,'' he assured me. ``One, two, three, one, two, three, one-two. There you go!''
I actually started getting the hang of it after a few dozen counts and was rewarded with a broad smile from Mac. My hips still didn't move the way they were supposed to, but that would come later. I was doing the shag!
Mac, as if sensing my excitement, got ambitious all of sudden and swung me around. Mistake. There went the count and I faltered.
``Oops,'' I apologized. Mac waited till I regained my bearings and we started anew. We made it through the whole song. Mac the gentleman thanked me for the dance.
``I'm going to book you in as an honorary member,'' he said as we exited. ``You're a great dancer.''
I thanked him, touched by his compliment. You know, I don't mind hearing a little white lie every now and then. by CNB