I previously wrote about three cities in striking distance of Auburn, Alabama, for those wanting to alleviate small-town tedium. There was another. About an hour outside Auburn down State Road 280 on the way to Birmingham, you'll come across the town of Dadeville.
Dadeville is one of those towns you'll miss if you blink twice. While Auburn was small, Dadeville was a 10th its size. But that was OK. College students weren't there to take in the sights of the former Native American trading post and the current seat of Tallapoosa County. They were there to get their countrified groove on at the Rodeo Club.
The Rodeo Club was a classic honky tonk. While the place wasn't Gilley's, it was several notches above the Road House from the Patrick Swayze movie of the same name. A beloved institution for several generations, one of their catchphrases was, "Haven't heard of us? Ask your grandma - she's probably got stories."
One of the Club's biggest draws was country line-dancing nights on Thursdays. Instructors were on hand to teach the latest dance steps early in the evening, and later, the massive dance floor was opened to all. One Thursday, someone in my circle invited me to join a group heading out that afternoon. I wasn't sure what I'd be doing since I was underaged, didn't play pool, and definitely couldn't dance, but I reluctantly tagged along.
I'm glad I did, because as fate would have it, the redhead was there, too.
It was still early days in our acquaintance. After some missteps in the beginning and my initial misread of her being far left of Gloria Steinem, I found I looked forward to her presence in these group outings.
When the lessons ended, our group took to the dance floor to practice our new skills along with the slew of regulars. I held my own, but I was still ill at ease beyond anything more technical than "Cotton Eyed Joe". I did eventually ask Andrea for a turn at the two-step, and being kind, she smiled afterward and thanked me.
The. Very. Next. Day. I bought a Garth Brooks CD. While my roommates were out I had that sucker blasting on repeat as I practiced the two-step continuously around the house. For the next week, any solitary time that I had, old Garth crooned away and I flipped through my Thermo notes. All the while I scooted around the house keeping time in my head, "Quick, quick, slow, slow, quick quick...turn...quick, quick...."
After a few days, a wear pattern developed on the carpet from my lone practice sessions.
A week later, I was once again asked if I wanted to head over to Dadeville. "Oh, hell, yeah!"
That night, after the dance lessons, I strode over to Andrea with a little more confidence, smiled, and held out my hand. The music kicked in, and keeping my eyes on hers instead of my feet, we started down the line of dance. After a few steps, her eyes widened and sparkled, and she smiled. "You've been practicing!" I gave as nonchalant a reply as I could muster.
"Pfft. Just a bit."
Around the floor, we went. Along the way, I put us into the promenade, and I managed to successfully execute a few turns. By the end of the tune, she was beaming. It was at that singular moment I locked in on the fact that I enjoyed seeing that look on her face. Being able to impress the redhead was a very cool thing.
We both continued to live south of the Mason-Dixon for a few more years, and we frequently found ourselves at the local country-western dance bar getting our steps in. Unfortunately, it's now been a while because these aren't really a thing in the Old Line state of Maryland.
More unfortunately, a few years back as we passed through Alabama, we decided to take a side trip and detoured to our old two-stepping grounds in Dadeville. When we pulled into the Rodeo Club parking lot, we found the place shuttered. The owners had just retired and they sold off the building to a local church. I can't imagine it will wind up being the same kind of social club.
It's another touchstone of our shared past we won't be able to enjoy anymore. But the memories remain. And so does the music. In the mid-'90s, even though Garth was still king of the country scene, this tune from Brooks and Dunn was a regular at all the honky tonks. While a little too slow for the two-step, it was just right for holding your best girl close.
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