Once in a desert moon, you come across a movie of passion, romance, danger… which goes straight from the production studio to the “bargain movie bin” at the local Dollar Tree. I’ve never seen the movie Desert Dancer, but I have a feeling it’s one of those underrated, boy-and-girl-vs-desert monster stories, with only their love and exotic dance moves to keep them alive. Nothing could be closer to my wife, and lifetime dance partner, Yarei, and my story. Between sand-bullet dodging pirouettes and roundhouse ballet kicks, we defy danger with songs of love, romance and left over dinner plans. Our choreographed shoulder shimmy sends shock waves of love that pierce evil doers, reducing them to mere backup dancers in our Bollywood-worthy spectacles. And as we approach the crescendo of our overdrawn dance-battle, the sand itself lifts us higher and higher into an epic dance-off spectacle even Cirque du Soleil would envy. Death defying springs, twirls and a breath taking Dirty Dancing swan-dive-and-catch annihilates the desert monster, leaving us surrounded by the silence of the desert and the occasional rolling tumbleweed. While The Good the Bad and the Ugly theme song plays quietly in the background, the camera zooms in on our war-torn, yet delicately glistening bronze countenances. But the tender moment is abruptly halted by a violent rumbling in the horizon. We turn our chiseled, perfectly proportioned faces toward the horrible sound and witness a dark, menacing cloud barreling toward us, full of lightning, swirling mist and… sharks: a Sharknado.
With looks of smug confidence we smile at each other, knowing Desert Dancer 2: Sharknado Dunes will be no match for us. And as the screen fades to black, we twirl, back flip and cartwheel straight into heart of danger.
Happy Birthday, mi bella… so thankful for another year of dancing, dreaming and dodging sand bullets.
(for the prequel to Desert Dancer, check out Confesions of a Dance Floor Diva )