We met on the dance floor.  Not surprising, considering the amount of time we have each spent there in our lives.  We were in a West Coast Swing Workshop.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. . . .  actually we first met when Dave walked into a Nightclub Two Step class that Linda was teaching.  She counted heads.  Everyone had a partner.  The class went on.  They didn’t connect.  Fast forward 3 months. . . . to the West Coast Workshop.

Linda came late and got into the Lead line-up (you gotta learn and practice both sides if you’re gonna teach).  Dave came in later and stood on the end of the line, next to her.  Linda was jazzed about a project she’d just finished and was telling her Follows about it as they came through the rotation.

Dave was taking great delight in spinning his partners wildly and sending them dizzily on to Linda.  . . (slight annoyance, but smile anyway). . . . Then he had the temerity to interrupt her conversation with her Follow! (most annoying!)  Except that he did so, mentioning a book and an author that he had no business knowing about.  (Uh-oh.  Who is this guy?)

So at the break they began talking about the author, and the book, and her project, and. . . and. . . and two hours later, after a wide ranging conversation that had people all around them listening and chiming in -- plus a few Lindy lifts over in the corner. . . the date Linda had been expecting walked into the room.  Dave had his back to the door, but he knew instantly. . . something had happened. . . and he knew what.  Being the suave, self-assured, and debonair guy that he is, he made darn sure he knew how to contact Linda, reconfirmed that she would come to his Jazz class the next night, and graciously took his leave. . . .  Linda watched him sachet out the door and thought to herself, “Uh-oh -- I’m in deep trouble!” . . . .  And she showed up in Jazz class the next night. . . .  And the rest, as they say, is history. (at least for us)

Except for one thing.  We wonder every day, how we got so lucky.