Dance! - The Road to Heavies: November 22, 2014.

THE Day... My first competition: RTME Feis 2014, Aan het Spui Theatre, The Hague.

Now, it's getting close. When I get up from bed, I'm a little wobbly on my feet. I packed my bag yesterday already, but decide to do a quick check what's inside anyway before I leave.

When I get down to the table for breakfast, there's a 1-Euro coin next to my plate, put there by my mom.
How stupid! I can take care of my own money! I'm 26 damn-it!
But then I turn the coin around. It proves to be an Irish Euro. I put it in my pocket and get a few 'good lucks' from my mom, who really hopes this coin will bring me luck. I'm not such a superstitious person but I like the symobilism this time and it's quite a rare coin to get in the Netherlands as well.

My parents are with me, keen as they are to see my first competition.
We get on the quarter to 10 bus to Amsterdam, 35 minutes later we are on the train to The Hague. While on the train, I test my knowledge on my drivers license and take some test-exams, to keep my mind occupied with something else for as long as possible.

First step on the platform and then the pins and needles hit me...

When I get to The Hague CS and exit the train, I can feel big pins and needles when I step onto the platform. Darn! Things are getting awfully close now!
We head for the theatre. My parents are a little later, as they still need to get some cash to be able to pay the spectator-fee.

I saw the building for real already and on a map. It's hard to miss. Even though, the main-entrance tries to hide itself as good as possible and I really have to take a good look for a door that stands out from the rest. When I have discovered it from a distance, and just started walking towards it, a big wig with orange sash goes in through the same door: I can't go wrong anymore.

It's busy inside, but not what I expected. Considering the size of this event, which also holds a logistical challenge the average person doesn't know about, I expected it to be more crowded.
I do realise that there are competitions running at this moment and the halls are probably packed with spectactors and expect things to change during the breaks.

Right. I'm in. Now what?

I pass the table where contestants need to register. I speak to someone there, but I haven't got the faintest clue what to do. It would have been a good idea to ask for some upfront-advice from a classmate or something.

I can pass these tables and with slightly wobbly knees I try to look for my teacher, to get my number. I don't find her on first instance. When I walk back from the hall where the championships are being held, someone approaches me who starts greeting me joyfully, waves and calls my name. Right... a big blonde wig, a tonne of make-up... but who is it?

When she is right in front of me (and obviously finds it weird I have not responded yet) I see that it's one of my class-mates from the Fridaynight.
I say hi and walk on. I will change first and than see what happens next.
I ask one of the 'stewards', guarding the entrance to one of the halls, where I can find the changing rooms and practice area.

Signage? Anyone?

I find the changing-rooms, after some searching. Signs with arrows on it pointing you in the right direction would not have been a bad idea. The changing room itself is like a bomb-site: the only table there is, is covered in clothes and the floor beneath holds a stockpile of shoes.
I move some stuff to the back of the table and just have some space to put things down my own.

I quickly notice that I can follow the competition very cleary. It's even so clear that I can even distinguish a male dancer, as a loud click from reel-shoes can be heard once in a while. Besides the music, it stays silent for the rest of the competition.
My eyes glance over the make-up mirror, with a huge ventilation-grid above it. But this isn't a movie and I really can't follow the competition that well via a ventilation-duct.
Slightly beside the grid is where I discover a small monitor-speaker. There are obviously 1 or more microphones open!

All changed, I face the problem of my bag and everything in it. I consider leaving them behind a risk, but I have no idea how all the others do that.
I decide to stuff everything in my bag and take it with me, because my water is also in it. My dad almost immediately offers to keep it with him for the rest of the competition and for once, I accept that offer.

Another search for the practice-area

Completely unused to this and nervous as hell, I just walk around in the hallway that runs around one of the podia. Right, the practice-area... let's have another look for it. I again can't find it, despite the Feis-stewards providing directions.
There are signs everywhere that practice is only allowed in the practice-area, but no information on where to find that particular place. It's very common sign as well: Not a Feis does without it.

I sit down for unknown time. One of my parents eats a small bread-roll. I want to, but can't eat at all. Nothing gets down my throat and even the water I drank a moment ago was aphalling.

When I get my competition-number handed out, I panick slightly: Safety-pins! That's the only thing I did forget to take with me.
My mom already saw that they are being offered at one of the many market-stalls. She points me to them and for 50 cent I take a hold of 10 pins: I won't ever forget those anymore.

Competitions running behind schedule...

At a quarter to 12, the first messages get out that the competitions are running behind schedule and not by a small margin as well. When I walk to the podium around half past 12 the word is out that the first break will not be before half past 1. As my teacher told me that I had to be there around 12 o'clock, 1 to 1:30 PM seemed like a reasonable time to make my way to the podium.

But half past 1 quickly becomes questionable as well. Quickly after it becomes unclear whether there will be a break at all (to make up for lost time) and then confusion spreads among the contestants. Will 1 podium hold the 25 to 30 competitions and the other the 'over 30's'? Will they combine the competitions, are they going to start in relay? I first think this is down to my lack of Feis-experience, but I quickly find out the more experienced dancers are just as confused as I am.

I take off my soft-shoes and put on my dance-sneakers. They are very comfortable compared to my soft-shoes and I immediately notice that the hour I have been stepping around on my soft-shoes has had its consequences. My calves are sore from a 3,5 centimeter heel under my feet for an hour now.

Ah! I found the practice-area!

At some point, I find the practice area, but it's crowded and therefore small. There isn't much space to practice and many contestants are mainly chatting with eachother. A few moments later, I find another 'practice area', near the championship-hall, but it has the same problem: a lot of people talking and not much space.

Finally some signage

At 1 PM, about 6 hours after the competitions commenced, signage is finally being put up on walls and in the foyer. Beneath the papers that prohibit practicing elsewhere than the practice-area some extra pieces of paper, with a large arrow drawn on with colour markers appear, to point to that area.
Shortly after, they also finally put up signs that tell which hall holds which competitions. The hall I hung out till now is 'my' hall and the other is for the championships. I can go and watch, but that's as much as I have to do with the other podium

When it becomes clear the competitions will be combined and things will go a bit faster, I put on my soft-shoes out of precaution. Shortly after, things are not progressing as fast as expect, so I take them off again about 20 minutes after.

The only thing I can do now is to try and find some distraction. It just takes forever and I wish it would all be over already.
I walk another circle and then stand by the entrance to my hall. Because of the many contestants and spectators that keep walking in and out, it's annoyingly busy.

I hear someone complain about the fact you can't hear which competition will follow when you are in the foyer or practice-area, except for when you are virtually in the hall itself. I also found that annoying, but I thought that was down to my lack of experiences with competitions.
The moment I say to that person I feel her, we immediately get approval from 3 more women, who all find the organisation to be a bit of a mess. You just can't sit in the foyer or somewhere else without being in 'stand-by' mode all the time as you have no idea what is happening on the podia.

I wander around, almost slip on a wide metal strip between the hall and the hallway leading up to it, ask myself if I'm the only one who steps on that piece of strip-metal and almost fall because of it, but when I wait, I see more people meet the metal part that's also slightly raised above the floor and makes a distinct noise when stepped upon.
Were a few pieces of gaffer-tape too much too ask?

I'm not alone

But then, time creeps near 'my moment'. I take a stand near the podium-entrance, to wait for the (almost) inevitable.
While I wait there, someone suddenly pops up in front of me and greets me. In the low light and because she's wearing a hat, I do not recognise one of my classmates. And she's not even wearing a wig or dress!

Shortly after I am suddenly grabbed by my shoulders and get some encouraging words from a woman in a dark-blue dress and a modest black wig on her head. Help! Now who is that!? I awake from an endless stream of nerve-racking thoughts. This comes out of nowhere and again it takes me a while to find out it's one of my classmates from the fridaynight.

When another classmate greets me I notice how much the nerves have taken over. She's wearing normal clothes, does not wear a wig and evenso I don't recognise her.
It does lift my spirits: everyone knows how much I'm not looking forward to this and it feels good so many people stand behind me.

Slight panick at the organisation

When Feis-staff at some point suddenly starts to look for the musician in panic, it becomes clear they want to start the Beginners-over-25 competitions as soon as possible.
A number of poles with the nice red rope between them appear out of nowhere, just like they have just thought of the idea to separate the stage in half and combine the two age-groups. Even though the stage is now cut in half to accompany two age-groups, it is still a mystery who dances where.
It's not until this point that we finally know they will combine competitions to make up for lost time.

The moment of truth: Why on earth did I start doing this?

The organisation then calls for all Beginners for the Reel and that's it. I'm being put in a line of chronological order. My hopes, to see the first group perform and see how fast they get back to the line after they did their thing, is crushed when I'm the very first.

The pins and needles now get to a climax. In a ridiculous pace thoughts fight for priority, the main one being: Can someone tell me why, in godsname, I started doing this?
The longer we are waiting, the more the tension rises. Even up to a point I think about quitting. What a stupid idea!

'Does someone speak French?' A voice full of anxiety suddenly speaks (in French of course) from the line of the 'over 30's' to my left.
A hand rises somewhere and it really sounds like both their stories of life are exchanged in a few seconds. I think they are having a hard time here as the main language is English. Without saying the French are all the same my experience is that they usually speak French and that's it. Either they don't want to speak English or just can't speak English. Then, a Feis will be a tough place to be.

'Stop, you can still do so!'

'You can still stop this... you can still...' flashes through my mind.
I get a nudge from the woman next to me: If the Reel is that circle in clock-wise motion. I first think I didn't hear her right and thinks she isn't sure if she's in the right line or not, but she really does mean the Reel.

Being slightly arrogant and making a remark about that like I know it better and I find the question rather silly at this point wouldn't be fair. I'm virtually dying from being nervous and I don't think she's any different.
Evenso, I find it to be a dangerous question: There are so many different ways to perform a Reel that the chance I don't perform a circle at the start, is quite big.
I confirm and she thanks me.

Annoying crowds near the stage and: the inevitable

'You can still leave the line...' Still runs through my head and yet I stay standing there.
Darn! The traffic from the changing rooms that likes to pass starts to become annoying. It was already annoying as a spectator only, but it feels different now. That the organisation has put up signs that make up for two different routes to the changing rooms and practice-area makes up for the fact the line has to be broken multiple times in order to let them pass.

The last time I reconsider to shut up the competitionshop is really the last time, when a Feis-steward calls '25 to 30 ready to go on stage' and I'm down to two options: running away fast or face my fear.

With my eyes closed a bit longer than necessary for a few times, I take the stage. Well darn... that's quite a crowd in there...
After the 'over thirties' have 'climbed' the stage (the stage-floor is level with the entrance to the hall) the jury is asked if they are ready.
The countdown-metronome from the musician's laptop starts (the beat is preprogrammed in the laptop, the accordeon is played live) and I take a deep breath. This is now or never.

With great anxiety I look at the contestant next to me as subtle as possible. We practiced this so much in dance class, the 'relay-start' and now I'm terrified that I won't step out of line soon enough. Fortunately, I'm completely in sync with her and then I wait for the remaining 4 bars and the inevitable moment.

Flip the switch and gó

And then... I go for it. I dance what I have to dance and that works out pretty well. I don't even count, even though I'm scared I will mess up otherwise.
I do look up as much as possible: somewhere at 2/3rd from ground level is where my eyes gaze into the room. That feels better than looking straight ahead.

Things start going wrong after the two side-steps. With a heel-step I sense I start losing my rhythm and have to correct slightly. When I move right, I notice I covered quite some distance forward in my steps in the side-steps and between my sidesteps. The stage looks gigantic, which invites to cover distance. Combined with my nerves it feels like I lost control. It's not going as smooth as I'd like.

I look to my left in fear... there's the adjudicator. I spot a line of gaffer-tape from the floor-protection by coincidence. A few meters to my left is the adjudicator's table and it's placed right against that line of tape, the same line I'm nearly dancing on.
Oh shite! I have to move left and I have to do a couple of hops... If I don't move back now, I'll probably kick the table...

Can someone open the hatch? Thank you...

The last 8 bars start. In my attempt to slowly move back while dancing I notice how I get tangled in my own legs. I lose my balance and timing so much I can't correct this by at least continuing to dance.
I stop, close my eyes tight shut and wish for a hatch to open for me to sink in to.
But - and that's the most important - I do not stamp my feet in anger, even though I'm so frustrated I did not complete my dance, with the finish in sight.
It probably takes me just a bit too long, caught in frustration as I am, before I move back in line.

Eventually the adjudicator rings the bell after witnessing all 5 of us. We have to bow to both the adjudicator and musician, something I nearly forget, frustrated as I am.

We leave the stage and after the 'over thirties' have finished their dances, the line is put in order for the Light Jig. That's the moment I find out the order in which I learned the dances is a bit weird. I step out of line as I don't even know the Light Jig yet. The contestants next to me joyfully but surprised signe me that I shouldn't walk away.
I say I don't know the Light Jig yet.

Stop overthinking...

There is still heavy traffic in and out the changing rooms. I am thinking and most importantly: defeatism: Please make sure you complete that second dance. That's a dangerous thought of course, odds are that I mess up because of that.

After about 5 minutes, I don't even know how long the Light and Slip Jig competitions lasted, the room gets packed again and we are put in order for the Single Jig.
I don't even think about quitting now. I will and have to complete this one.

'Are you all ready?' Well... not really...

Shortly after, I step out of line. There's so much traffic that it's annoying. The organisation immediately panics slightly when they suddenly miss my number.
'Are you all in line, are you ready?' some woman asks right before we take the stage. 'Yes and no' is what I would like to answer. With my head down I enter the podium again, to make sure I don't even get a glimpse from the crowd. I try to encourage myself: You made it further than you expected so far...

This time, I'm second in line. This means I will be starting first again, but I now know a little better what I need to do.
I try to dance the Single Jig in the slightly altered lead-around. As you don't dance the Single Jig completely, the lead-around is not a circle but more of a comma-shaped lead-around. This way you cover more distance to the front instead of ending at the spot where you started.

I manage to do so, more or less. I slightly overshot the point where I wanted to be after 8 bars, but I manage to keep dancing and when I also end my sidestep to the left, I make a small jump of joy on the inside. I did it!

I bow and get back in line and don't understand why I only see 1 dancer on stage. The contestant to my left stopped dancing only a few steps after the beginning.
When the single contestant that is dancing now also fails, I feel better: I don't have to be ashamed I did not finish my first dance.

Finally... It's over!

When we get back-stage, I nearly run away. Boy am I glad this is finally done with!
I make my way to the restrooms to wash my face. It's not extremely sweaty, but it's a nice refreshing feeling.
I do have to take a towel with me next time. The restrooms only know hand dryers. An advantage is that the restrooms for women are extremely busy, but the mens are nearly empty.

My shoes are still on my feet, as I have no idea when the results will be announced. I don't know if it's a problem if I put my sneakers on (As I'm quite fed up with my reel-shoes by now) so I don't remove them yet.
When the beginner-competitions have ended and I find someone from the organisation and ask them about the results, I hear those will be announced after the Open-levels.

Right! Bye! That means another 2 to 2,5 hours waiting. That's a bit much. I try to find my teacher to ask her about leaving before the results are announced. That's also a thing I don't know.
If I give my number to one of my classmates, they can collect a price if there is one. I don't think I stood any chance, but if there is a remembrance in some form, I would not want to miss out on it.

I'll say I'll try to find one of the people from the fridaynight class. My teacher answers that 'everyone from the fridaynight is here', but I say I first have to recognise them in order to give them my number. She laughs about it, but in a nice manner.

When I find someone, I get changed. The changing room now shows obvious signs of a lot of dresses that have been put on and off. The floor is covered in shiny stones and it has got even more stuffed with clothes and bags. I can safely say this changing room is not at all adequate for this event.

I meet a boy/man from Austria, who quickly takes his shoes off. We have a short conversation, but he wants so see his sister dance, and thus leaves.
Walking out, I take out the few slices of bread I took with me. I immediately put them away when close to the theatre, I find a stall that sells Dutch doughnuts, besides advertising that hey made it to the top-10 of a national (annual) doughnuts-test. I buy one and eat it with pleasure.

Yes! Yessss! YESSSSS!

Then, we head for home. It's not until later reality hits me: I did it! I really did it. I took the stage twice.

And: I did good. I can say that for sure. Although I didn't complete my first dance, I wasn't the only one to stop. Besides: I went through all this. Even though the pins and needles hit me like never before and I was sooo close to giving up and forget about the idea of a Feis forever.
For the next time, I really need to bring something of an MP3-player, paired with some nice headphones, to isolate myself (as you quickly get fed up with the accordeon-music)

My mom now was at her second competition. She has visited the Kilkenny Feis in 2013 after hearing my stories and wanted to see everything with her own eyes.
My dad however had his 'first time': I joke about the fact how hard this world would have hit him if he had not seen a single episode of 'Jigs and Wigs' upfront. He replies that he thought the TV wasn't even that bad and reality is even worse.