by Sunny Andersen	Samba, meringue, cha-cha-cha. Tango, waltz, one-two-three. Ballroom dancing has finally gone big time, and now if you're good enough, you can not only win a trophy at the local dance parlor, but a gold medal in the summer Olympics. That's right — the decathlon, basketball...and now I wait with baited breath to hear someone utter,"Yeah, I have an Olympic gold medal in rhumba."
	But let's not call it by its pedestrian name. We shall now refer to ballroom dancing by its official title: dance sport. Kind of removes the stigma of that whole "ballroom" bit, doesn't it? Dance sport dude, pass me a Miller. The organization that oversees this burgeoning genre is none other than the International Dance Sport Federation. The IDSF spent a decade attempting to legitimize their sport in the eyes of the International Olympics Committee, and in 2004 dance sport will be a medal event in the summer games. Dance sport has always had a large and dedicated audience. It's a multimillion dollar industry with associations around the globe. Though both competitive and intense, just like any other Olympic discipline, it is the only sport performed in a ballgown and tux. There was much fancy footwork involved in getting recognized by the committee. One of the ways that the IDSF convinced the Olympic board that their sport was worthy was to demonstrate its innate difficulty and aerobic strain. They proved that one minute of ballroom dancing is equal to a runner completing an 800-meter jaunt. Not too shabby, my friend. One of the most intriguing aspects of the professional dancers is the fluidity of the motions. Those gregarious grins that adorn their faces give such an appearance of confidence and ease. And with those elaborate costumes, one takes it all for granted. It's all so showy. But beyond the glitter and the gold, I have found a new and improved respect for these newly-labeled athletes after I attempted to conquer the dance floor myself. I always loved Fred and Ginger. Films like Strictly Ballroom, Shall We Dance?, and Danzon gave the pastime a soul which I wanted to call my own. So I wanted to prove once and for all that it is deserving of Olympic status. Many sleepless nights were spent pondering this very subject. Is it worthy? The only way to find out was to be a dancing guinea pig. I would be my own Abba-esque dancing queen. I opted for beginner's ballroom, a combination of waltz, Latin, and nightclub dances. I was ready and prepared to swirl around the room with the greatest of ease. I lived in this fantasy world until two little things got in my way: My feet.
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