The last half-hour of my west coast swing class was spent watching professional dancers do their thing (on DVD, of course). Having been totally blown away the first time I watched professionals, I wasn’t anywhere near as affected this time around. (Sidenote: one of the dancers was a guy that Barbara remembers taking Ballroom I from her, some three years ago… amazing what three years can do, if you actually practice.)

Then, behind us: THWACK!!!

That’s as close as the written word can represent the sound of a tile falling from the ceiling, and landing right where people would have been dancing. Judging from the amount of noise it made (the room is two stories tall), that would have been enough to take someone out.

The last time this happened (yes, tiles have fallen before), I was in the bathroom when the tile fell. This time I know why people were frozen in fear.

Barbara had fun with it though, and got all of us to sign the fallen tile—making it into a bizarre trophy. I can now say that my name is on a piece of OSU memorabilia.