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The Ongoing Adventures of Tango Man

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Installment Four of the Ongoing Adventures of Tango Man
(Da Da Da DAAAAA – He’s everywhere, he’s everywhere)
by Ace Dance Crime reporter Rudy Dancealot!

It was a hot, sultry, steamy, Wednesday night outside the Rhapsody Ballroom. It had been an oppressive 95 degrees
all day. At 4:00 the temperature dropped two degrees as the great toi-toi in the firmament was flushed repeatedly
and dropped an inch of rain in seventeen minutes; this was followed by the sun coming back out and the temperature
rising to 97 degrees. The steam was rolling off the black top, off the trees, off the few people brave enough to walk
in the goo. The two minute walk required to transport one from one’s air conditioned home to one’s air conditioned
car would leave one drenched – looking very much like Michael Phelps after doing the 200 Free (Except that one
would be wearing more than a Speedo, and wouldn’t have huge, massive arms, and well, one doesn’t have the big grin
and doesn’t run around beating themselves on the chest like Mr. Phelps does. Maybe this wasn’t such a good analogy –
all I was trying to get across is that it was hot, and people sweat a lot without having to say ‘sweat a lot’ – guess I failed).
OK, all I am really trying to say is that Florida in the summer is a tad bit on the hot and humid side and one tends to sweat a lot.

People were straggling (or should I say swimming) in slowly but surely with the hope of infusing a miniscule bit of joy
in their drab lives. The music coming from the desk of
Mike The DJ was as hot as the temps outside. Unfortunately the
ballroom was also almost as hot as outside, even with all the AC’s running; even the ‘Big Gun’, the wall unit was churning
full blast.
Gordon was doing a Cha Cha on the dance floor. He was dancing with one of the cutest and youngest girls in
the ballroom. Have you ever noticed that Gordon is always dancing with the cutest and youngest girls in the ballroom? 
How does he do that?  Is it his animal magnetism, is it his rugged good looks, is it his charming pre-dance banter? Maybe
it is the cologne he wears ‘Eau De Ballroom Shoes’, the favorite scent of William Pino. All I know is that Gordon has been
doing it for as long as I have been around the ballroom, and I trust that he will be doing the same for many years to come.

In honor of the Olympics, the entertainment for the night was to be the synchronized swimming team from YeeHaw Junction,
Florida.  They are pretty good; they practice in Buzz Crankmore’s pig trough on alternating Tuesdays – assuming that is, that
they can force the pigs out of it. They made quite a splash at the Olympic trials, but were just a pig’s hair shy of making it
to London. As a concilation prize they were going to do their routine for us without water, trough, or pigs. Everyone was
very excited.

The evening was progressing swimmingly. As usual, the tiny little man was sitting in the corner of the ballroom wheezing
and gasping as he kept a sparrow’s eye on the dancing couples. Most people by now accepted the little man as a
settled fixture of the Wednesday night dances – they found it comforting to have him around, even though they were not
sure why. They just felt a little safer with him sitting in the corner – doesn’t make much sense, does it? Suddenly there
was heard a slamdiferous crack and the lights dimmed to half as the front door flew open and in walked – you know
who – The Man in Black. You already know all about this black clad, gold cuff linked, evil to the core, dancing stud
muffin, so I will not go into more detail here ( see previous adventures ).
Carl and Lelia were manning the door that
night. Lelia asked The MIB for his USA Dance card knowing full well he did not have one. Anything to keep him at the
desk for a while – a spectacular view is a spectacular view after all.  People stand and look at the Grand Canyon for
hours. Carl on the other hand had a plan. Carl was planning on challenging The MIB to an arm wrestling match. If The
MIB lost, he would have to pay the eight dollar entrance fee plus become a member of the chapter, and you know the
result if Carl lost – another eight dollars lost to the SouthernStar coffers. Now Carl is a strong guy. He used to lift
weights, and I mean lots of weights; he even used to compete and did pretty well. Heck he could have made it to
the Olympics except for that funny Cool Aid that he used to drink – the Olympics are pretty picky about that. So, the
two of them sat down at the desk across from one another. Carl had removed his shirt to let those massive muscles
breath a little better, he was giving The MIB the evil eye to surpass all evil eyes – Carl knew that The MIB was going
down, he was going so far down that his momma would have to scrape him off the bottom of her shoes to feed him
Sunday Fried Chicken. The MIB seemed somewhat nonchalant and unconcerned, as if he had a secret Nine of Hearts
in his left back pocket. The two took hold, Mike played the National Anthem, and a shot rang out from somewhere.
The two combatants gritted their teeth and applied pressure. There was a lot of grimacing and grunting going on. The
MIB did surprisingly well, but it was evident that Carl was the superior wrestler and that he would prevail. The MIB’s
hand was mere inches from being forced to the table when he pulled a pheasant feather from that same pocket as the
Nine of Hearts and deftly flicked it at Carl’s arm pit once, twice, thrice. Carl started giggling in an uncontrollable
fashion, and before you could say “How did he fit that pheasant feather in his pocket”, Carl’s hand was pressed to
the table. Carl was stunned. How did The MIB know that he was ticklish in the left arm pit. No one knew about
that except for Lelia. Carl turns and looks at Lelia, she just sits there and smiles – she really is so beautiful when she smiles.

OK, the editor tells me that she has a ton of pictures from the MidSummer Classic to put in the Newsletter, and that I
shouldn’t ramble on so much, so here is the quick and dirty. The MIB walked into the ballroom and asked
Elaine Derby,
the sweetheart of the ballroom, to dance. The MIB escorted her to the dance floor, a perfect gentleman. He danced an
elegant waltz with Elaine. But wait, what dastardly, craven, evil is this?
  As the music fades, The MIB JUST TURNS AND
WALKS OFF THE FLOOR LEAVING ELAINE BEHIND! He has an evil grin on his face and gives nary a glance in Elaine’s
direction. Elaine is left alone and vulnerable in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by lions and tigers and bears –
OH MY! Well you know what happens now, the little man in the corner jumps up runs to the back and comes back and
shouts, “Never fear – Tango Man is here. It is my goal to right all dance wrongs.”

In the flick of a fleckerl, Tango Man appeared at Elaine’s side and graciously escorted her back to her table. He also
secretly put a powder in her drink that not only allowed her to forget the horrors that The MIB bestowed on her that night,
but also made her very happy and the life of the party for the rest of the evening – I am just saying that it was a good
thing that there were no lamp shades in the Rhapsody that night.

The Man in Black realized that his dastardly plans have been foiled again by that very annoying Tango Man. With a
cry of frustration, The Man in Black once again mysteriously disappeared into a flicker of mist.

Tango Man felt satisfied that the immediate crises had been resolved, but he suspected that The Man in Black will
show up again with even worse dance crimes on his mind. But never fear - the ever vigilant Tango Man will be ready.

Please stay tuned for further adventures of Tango Man (Da Da Da DAAAAA – He’s everywhere, he’s everywhere).