Of course in order to take part in such an event as Brassxercise, you need two things; Dancingman504 as your instructor, and brass band music. If you live in or have ever been to New Orleans, chances are you've encountered both. You rarely find one without the other. If there's a festival, second line, jam or concert in town with brass bands, you're sure to find Dancingma504 there doing his thing.
Earlier this week I had the pleasure of taking part in a Brassxercise class in a park near by my house. Someone in the neighborhood was kind enough to forward me the listserv link with the invite on it. They sent it my way because they know I love dancing, exercise and brass bands, and am kooky enough not to give a crap what other people might think if they happened to see me getting down in the park on a Monday morning.
The class started with me, then a neighbor and her boyfriend/mother-in-law. Shortly after we began, my husband's band mate was walking by on his way to breakfast. I called out to him and he made his way over to say hello. Dancingman504 took this as a sign that Richard was interested in his class. Richard is far too polite to turn anyone down and so he stayed. And sweated. And shook his tail feather.
We were quite a sight to see. One guy passed us on his motorbike and was so intrigued, he did a loop of the park, swung back by us and parked his bike directly across the street. So, we hooped and hollered and put on a show for him. Confession time: it doesn't take much to get me shouting, clapping and generally carrying on, especially if its for someone else's benefit. I'm a cross between a show off and a shit disturber, with a bit of an exhibitionism thrown in.
The best part of all...I'm not alone. There are many of us who excel and/or thrive on mini states of madness. Dancing in the park, in extreme heat on a weekday morning with a native madman speaks to lots of New Orleanians. This is how we do it.
