A Queer Vietnamese-Houstonian-New Yorker Writer musing about the arts and absurdities when not screenwriting or playwrighting

Lindy Hoppin’ at Chocoooooooooolaaaaate Bar

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Must sustain pose for selfie. Must… resist… delectable calorie block.

A-hem, excuse the Spongebob reference but… CHOCOOOOOLAAAAAATE!

With the UH Lindy Hop Club, I joined them for a Thursday outing at the Rice Village Chocolate Bar where they held their weekly swing dance night.

This is heaven.

Cake... cake... cake...

Cake… cake… cake…

And what’s a stop at the Chocolate Bar without chocolate? Namely, a Black Russian slice of cake.

Must... resist... that 600 calorie block

Must… resist… that 600 calorie block

Two weeks ago, I couldn’t stomach the Bar’s diary-heavy tuxedo cheesecake. The Black Russian cake proves a lot more satisfying in texture. The slice sprinkled with mini-eggs of white and black coffee beans, crisp, like hardcore jellybeans with solid coffee. I could mash my face into it. The crusted darker chocolate area is the best part.

I have to swing dance off a fraction of the accumulated calories. It must be profitable to hold Thurs dance nights. It make customers feel less guilty to purchase their calories-laced products.

I’m a novice Lindy hopper so my movement are stunted. Rock step, swing, twirl, rock step, step forward…

I’m always the “follower,” dependent on a lead. The whirling is fun, but it’s embarrassing for my feet to not keep up with my expert partner.

But hey, it’s learning. Even if it involves my trippin’ feet. One of these days, I’ll be the one extending my hand out to a beginner, asking, “shall we dance?” And I’ll be adept at keeping up with my partner’s stumbles.



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