On Monday I had a few errands to run, but eventually made it out to NY in the afternoon. It was one of those scorchingly hot days, where even breathing causes you to sweat profusely. While I was on the train, the weather must have clicked over into rain-before-the-storm mode, because when I got out at Penn Station, it was bucketing down, which was a welcome change. I'd brought my umbrella, so all was well.

As the last time I'd been in NYC had been in the dead of winter with delicate snow falling all around the city, I wanted to see how different Central Park looks in the summertime. Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to go to the same places I went last time so I could get funky before and after pics, but here are a few green and leafy pictures, regardless.





Compare them with this from last time if you like.



After several hours in the park, I caught a subway down to where the swing class was meant to be. Going into the building, a man opened the door for me from the inside and I thanked him as I entered. I had to go up to the next floor. He started following me up the stairs and cleared his throat as he did so. Then it dawned on me that maybe he was one of those doormen I've heard about and was expecting a tip or something. But I don't know how much to tip! And he'd only opened a door for me, it's not like he did something dramatic and particularly useful. Given another second or two and I would have reached the door myself and opened it all on my own - I hadn't asked for his help. No cute puppy-dog eyes from me.

Silly country with its silly tipping habits!

I started wondering whether I should stop and give him a dollar so he'd leave me alone... but by this point I was half-way up the stairs and getting away from him anyway, so I figured I'd just let it be. I'm a clueless tourist from Australia - I don't have to tip! If he thinks I'm rude, so be it. Maybe I am.

When I got to the next floor I went to the reception desk to sign in for the class. Strange Door Guy just kept coming. Persistent bugger, wasn't he? He lurked just outside the glass door outside reception as though deciding what to do next. Would he follow me in and ask me for a tip, point blank? After a few moments he came in and went past me at the reception into the hallway where people were waiting for the next class. Was he going to stop me off in the hallway, ensuring that I tip him on the way through?

Clearly, my brain had ceased to function with any semblance of logic guiding my analysis of the situation. Had I thought about it for a moment I would have decided that his hideously yellow short-sleeve shirt was clearly not what a doorman should wear, and his slow ascent to the reception was also indicative of the idea that he was a bit too old and a bit too tired to climb stairs a dozen times a day as a doorman might have to. It was only when he followed me into the swing class and I had to dance with him that I was truly convinced of his student status, rather than doorman. I hadn't violated some stupid tipping rule after all, YAY! :)

As for why he didn't stop to sign in for the class? Well, when Frankie walked up Door Guy greeted him warmly and was met with a similarly friendly greeting in return. Seems they know eachother. He's probably been coming for a while and has paid for several classes up front. Simple, isn't it? If only I could think this way at the time, not just in retrospect. I have to say, the do-I,-or-don't-I-tip - and-how-much? feeling is highly unpleasant.

The tiny class (10 people, 3 men, 7 women) was nothing like I'd imagined. 2 women were leads so everyone got paired off before we rotated partners. I think one of the women leading was a teacher/ aide so she knew most of what she was doing and it wasn't too bad.

I'd expected at least double the number of people in the class, and far more people who were advanced than the 3 or 4 that were present. Initially, I'd been worried that my intermediate abilities wouldn't cut it in a Frankie Manning class, but I shouldn't have been even remotely concerned. I could do the steps he taught us as well as anyone else and it worked particularly well with the advanced guys. Door Guy wasn't a very good lead at all and couldn't really keep time.

Frankie's pretty awesome, though. You can see he's getting on in years, but you wouldn't for a moment think that he's 91. He still moves with such grace and fluidity most of the time that you'd think he's no more than 65 or 70. And although his right leg is giving him a bit of grief and he can't balance on it very well any more, he still has a great sense of rhythm, timing and a fabulous imagination for appropriate moves that suit the music. We were doing a move that involved hopping on your right foot for 4 beats, and he was still demonstrating it. And then he showed us how to mess around to the music with such a simple set of moves to make them more interesting.

I want to be able to move like that. Even now, let alone when I'm 90. There's an awful lot to learn from that man.

As the class went on, I noticed that people weren't as talkative and friendly as they usually are in Sydney swing classes. But then, it was a very small class. After me making a few friendly comments about what we were doing, one of the better guys opened up a bit and started guessing which country I'm from.

England?
No.
Scotland?
Nope. Wrong hemisphere.

The idea of there being another hemisphere threw him for a moment. He gave me a puzzled look before continuing to throw guesses at me.

Hong Kong?
Nuh-uh.

Since when is Hong Kong in the Southern Hemisphere?

South Africa?

Just then, Frankie asked us to rotate partners, so I just shook my head in response with a smile and started walking away.

AUSTRALIA!

I couldn't help but grin when he got it, but it was probably in large part due to the fact that everyone else had stopped to look at him curiously for declaring the name of a random country so loudly in the middle of the class. :)

It seems it's not just the Americans who think their country is more important and better known than it is.

When I got back around to him the next time, he claimed that he'd known all along where I was from... he was just messing with me. Of course he was. And I was just playing along. :)