usadancesport.gif (1778 bytes)
.

The Ongoing Adventures of Tango Man

soustar_logo.jpg (6494 bytes)
.

More About Us

.

Contact Us

.

Newsletter

.

Event Calendar

.

Competition

.

Home

.

Places To Dance

. .

                                 

 

Installment Six 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 balmy, breezy Wednesday evening in December on the Tropical South Pacific island of Humpa-da-poopoo.
As we know, Tango Man was missing at the last SouthernStar dance in Tampa. It seems that Tango Man had been sending
in box tops from his favorite breakfast cereal (General Mills Cocoa Puffs because they are MmmmMmmm Cocoalicious)
for the last 23 years, and it finally paid off – he won an all expense paid trip to the fore mentioned tropical island.
Tango Man questioned if he should leave Tampa at the mercy of the despicable crimes of The Man in Black (TMIB),
but Tango Man’s Mother (he still lived at home) told him this was the first and probably the last thing he would ever
win, and he was by god going to make use of it – besides she needed a break from the little whisper of a man hanging
around the house all day.

As we look upon Tango Man on the beautiful tropical island, we see that the Humpa-da-poopoo natives are performing
a ceremony that will elevate our mysterious crime fighter to the status of a god. It seems that Tango Man has been making
quite a splash here - literally. He is the only man in the last 117 years to successfully dive off the magnificent
Humpa-da-poopoo Poopoo-ma-danga sea cliffs and successfully survive the plunge into the blue Pacific waters
while doing a triple oblique summersault with a doubleGanger accentuated Salchow followed by a tip of the hat to the
good fairy Tinkerbell to end the dive (in actuality, he had tripped and fallen off the Humpa-da-poopoo Poopoo-ma-danga
cliffs while looking down at the magnificent Humpa-da-poopoo Poopoo-ma-danga cliff dwelling birds more commonly
referred to as the Humpa-da-poopoo-tanga-duu-monga swallows – fortunately Tango Man is so light and wispy that he
just floated down into the water like a dry leaf, and then a friendly Dolphin helped him back to shore – so long and thanks
for all the fish). The Natives were very impressed with this. When Tango Man (always truthful) attempted to tell them it was
all a mistake, the natives just poopoo’d his objections. What clinched Tango Man’s celebrity was his uncanny ability
to completely drain all the Humpa-da-poopoo-deedee-ta-taataas juice from the sacred Humpa-da-poopoo-deedee-ta-taataas
cactus without passing out or even slurring his words. It seems that the Humpa-da-poopoo-deedee-ta-taataas juice from
the sacred Humpa-da-poopoo-deedee-ta-taataas cactus is the most potent alcoholic beverage known to man, and for
the Humpa-da-poopoo natives, to completely drain the Humpa-da-poopoo-deedee-ta-taataas juice from the sacred
Humpa-da-poopoo-deedee-ta-taataas cactus is much like, for us, pulling a sword out of a stone; no one has been
able to accomplish this feat for the last 1387 years – and thus his elevation to a god. As for why Tango Man
could drain the Humpa-da-poopoo-deedee-ta-taataas juice from the sacred Humpa-da-poopoo-deedee-ta-taataas
cactus with no ill effects – we do not have an explanation – he has never even had an alcoholic drink before
in his life (he usually drinks Shirley Temples in Tampa), and we know that Tango Man would never take
Humpa-da-poopoo-deedee-ta-taataas cactus juice drinking enhancing drugs, unlike some people we know. It is
just one of those Humpa-da-poopoo mysteries that will probably never be solved. So let’s get back to the ceremony.
Tango Man is thinking that maybe he could enjoy spending the rest of his life as a pampered god on a tropical Island,
but then he starts thinking about all those good, kind dancers in Tampa who depend on him to rid the dance
floor of the Rhapsody Ballroom of hideous, unthinkable dance crimes. He also starts thinking about his Mother living
all alone in that big old house (in reality she has been having wild parties every night since he left, but we will not
tell Tango Man that). Suddenly he comes back down to earth and accepts reality; he knows his place in life. He
silently gets up and throws off the sacred ceremonial robe made of a combination of Humpa-da-poopoo
Humpa-da-poopoo-tanga-duu-monga swallows feathers and Humpa-da-poopoo Dinga-da-mango-poo-danga fur
(a native weasel found only on the island of Humpa-da-poopoo) and starts walking toward the Humpa-da-poopoo
Fly-dinga-da-up-o-da-poopoo airport and catches the first flight back to Tampa
.

So now let us fast forward to an equally balmy Wednesday night in mid January outside the Rhapsody ballroom,
and I do mean balmy. There was a record high of 87 degrees on this day – what’s that about anyway? Some of us
have a suspicion, but this is not the time or place to discuss such matters. The typical, desperate, forlorn crowd was
straggling into the Rhapsody with the hope of gleaning a few insignificant moments of pleasure from their otherwise
bleak, desperate lives. The usual suspects were there.
Carl and Lelia were watching the door, Mike was playing the
music, and the little man was once again sitting in the corner keeping his eyes on the proceedings. He brought a sense
of calm to the ballroom, and the void that had been present at the December dance had been subtly filled. Even though
most the dancers present could never begin to verbalize these emotions, they felt that the world was on an even keel
again. Most of the occupants of the Rhapsody did not even look closely enough at the little man in the corner to realize
that he had a bodacious tan going, and that he still had a feather from the Humpa-da-poopoo Poopoo-ma-danga cliff
dwelling birds more commonly referred to as the Humpa-da-poopoo-tanga-duu-monga swallows stuck in his hair. No
one in the ballroom had any idea of what Tango Man gave up for them, but this is often the case – true heroes
often live lives of obscurity and loneliness – this is the way of the world.

The dance is proceeding swimmingly. Mike is playing great music, and the occupants of the ballroom are indeed
obtaining momentary respites from the misery of their shallow, fruitless lives when they hear a sharp crack, the lights
dim, and in walks TMIB. As always he is exquisitely coiffed, dressed to the hilt, confident as a Saint Bernard with
a full keg, and handsome as a ten dollar bean pole. This time, TMIB walks right in without paying, sans any resistance
from the door attendants. This would be because there had been a slow period, so
Carl and Lelia
moved off to the
corner to play ‘Go Fish’. Carl has not managed to beat Lelia in a game of Go Fish for the last fifty years (this is a
fact, Carl and Lelia celebrated their 50th anniversary in February – you guys rock). Carl has learned to count cards, and
he is absolutely certain that Lelia has two Jacks that will allow him to go out, but when Carl asks Lelia if she has
any Jacks, she bats her pretty eyes and says “Go fish.” Carl just can’t figure it out; he has counted every card played.
All I wonder is why Lelia always has her open purse right by her side when she plays – is that a Jack I see hiding in
there? Enough speculation, how are we to argue with a relationship that has been going strong for fifty years.
The long and short of it is that the SouthernStar coffers have once again missed out on an eight dollar entrance fee
from that devious MIB. It is so hard to get good help these days.

TMIB wastes no time. He goes right to Catherine Max and asks her to dance the next waltz. Everyone seems to
forget the shenanigans of TMIB and Catherine immediately accepts. As always, TMIB, being an exquisite dancer,
takes up perfect dance position with Catherine. He commences with the perfect preparatory step and executes the
first step of a natural turn. But wait, what dastardly, craven, evil is this? JUST AS THEY START DANCING, THE MAN
IN BLACK PULLS CATHERINE IN WITH HIS RIGHT HAND IN A DEATH GRIP THAT CRUSHES HER AGAINST HIS CHEST.
Catherine is a lovely dancer, but how can she be expected to maintain proper dance posture when she is forced out of
position by the heavy hand of TMIB. Tango Man, always observant, even while thinking about the glories of Humpa-da-poopoo,
immediately ascertains the dastardly crime on the floor. He quickly goes to the back room and within mere minutes
returns dressed in the Crime Fighting costume we have all learned to respect and trust, except that his red cape has been
replaced with a glorious cape made of a combination of Humpa-da-poopoo Humpa-da-poopoo-tanga-duu-monga
swallows feathers and Humpa-da-poopoo Dinga-da-mango-poo-danga fur (the Humpa-da-poopoo natives let him
keep the cape, even though they were bitterly disappointed to see him leave). Tango Man shouts, “Never fear – Tango Man
is here. It is my goal to right all dance wrongs.” So quickly that no one can really tell what is going on, Tango Man pulls
a portable air bag out from under his cape made of a combination of Humpa-da-poopoo Humpa-da-poopoo-tanga-duu-monga
swallows feathers and Humpa-da-poopoo Dinga-da-mango-poo-danga fur and deftly places it between TMIB and Catherine.
With a twirl and flourish of his cape made of a combination of Humpa-da-poopoo Humpa-da-poopoo-tanga-duu-monga
swallow’s feathers and Humpa-da-poopoo Dinga-da-mango-poo-danga fur, Tango Man inflates the airbag, and Catherine
is released from the claw-like grip of TMIB.

The Man in Black realizes 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 disappears into a flicker of mist.

Tango Man feels satisfied that the immediate crises had been resolved, but he suspects that TMIB will show up again
with even worse dance crimes on his mind. But never fear - the ever vigilant Tango Man will be ready. He is now
convinced that he did the right thing in leaving Humpa-da-poopoo.

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