Guys and Dolls of the Class of '99:

Wear insoles.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, insoles would be it.
The long term benefits of insoles have been heralded by many dancers,
whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my meandering experience on the dance floor.
I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the beauty and power of good frame. But nevermind; you will never understand the power and beauty of good frame until you dance with someone who has noodle arms.
But trust me: in twenty years, you will look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you cannot grasp now, how many dances lay before you and how fabulous you really looked in those spectators.
Your deodorant does not last as long as you imagine.
Don't worry about the future of swing. Or worry, knowing that worrying is just as effective as trying to do the Charleston on a treadmill. The real troubles in your life are apt to be the things that blindside you at 1a.m. at the bar as you wonder why you ordered that fifth martini (a chocolate martini made by Sam at Maxi's!).
Do one aerial every day that scares you.
Carry a handkerchief.
Don't be reckless with other people's dance space.
Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Stretch.
Don't waste your time being jealous of those who live in San Francisco or New York City.
Sometimes you dance with a partner. Sometimes you dance by yourself.
The dance is long and, in the end, you've burned off dinner.
Remember the bargains you found at the thrift store.
Forget how you got ripped off at Nordstrom's. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your grandmother's old dress, throw away your old ticket stubs.
Spin.
Don't feel guilty if you can't Balboa. Some of the most interesting people I know didn't know how to Balboa at age 22. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds still don't.
Drink plenty of water.
See Frankie Manning. You'll miss him when he's gone.
Maybe you'll flirt with that cat with the great tie.
Maybe you won't.
Maybe you'll date that kitten with the great twirly skirt.
Maybe you won't.
Maybe you'll give up swing at 40. Maybe you'll dance the shim sham at your 75th birthday party.
Whatever you do, congratulate yourself if you wear suspenders with the buttons, berate yourself if you wear the kind that clip.
Your choices are limited to whatever is behind the bar. So are everybody else's.
Enjoy your local club scene, use it every night of the week.
Don't be afraid of the bouncers or what they charge for a cover. It's the only place that offers swing nights.
Lindy. Even if you have nowhere to do it but in a smoke-free, alcohol-free, soda-pop-pouring parlor.
Read the drink menu, even if you don't drink.
Do not watch Erin Stevens and Steven Mitchell, they will only make you feel uncoordinated.
Go to Swing Camp Catalina. You will never know when you'll ever be able to get in again.
Be nice to your dance instructors. They are your best link to getting someone to dance with you and the most likely to tell you if you just plain suck.
Understand that bands will come and go. But to a precious few, you should actually buy tickets.
Work hard to bridge the gaps between swing now and swing then, for the older you get, the more you need to remember that swing was around before Indigo.
Dance at The Crystal Ballroom once, but leave before you're too spoiled for all other dance floors.
Dance on concrete once (if you must), but leave before you do serious damage to your legs.
Shag.
Accept certain inalienable truths: Beginners will kick you, your Bleyers will wear out and you, too, will realize "Swing Kids," is a bad movie.
And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were taking Beginning Lindy, cover charges were reasonable, bands didn't play so many covers, and other dancers respected your floor space.
Respect their floor space.
Don't expect anyone to protect you if you get clocked by a novice lindy hopper. Maybe you'll be wearing hockey gear, maybe you'll learn Tae-Bo swing, but you will always bruise.
Don't mess too much with your swing wardrobe or by the time you're 40, you'll have to buy a separate home for your clothes.
Be careful whose moves you steal, but be patient with the 1,754th person that asks you to teach them the Charleston. Teaching is a form of perpetuity, doing it is a way of ensuring the venues will stay open, the good bands will keep touring, and you will always have someone to dance with.
But trust me on the insoles.