Take all ten of your fingers, place them on your keyboard, and type anything, jlkjsdfsl hlkdsflkjlk, yeah anything, as fast as you can for a minute. Michael Flatley does that with his feet. Flatley, who holds the record of having the fastest feet on earth, was going to perform Lord of the Dance Feet of Flames for the third last time. And Hui Chin and I were there to catch it.

I’m sure there are many who speculate that Flatley would come out of retirement to perform another dozen or so Lord of the Dance shows. And many people would go just to see if he still has his feet. If he does indeed perform another dozen shows, I guess I’d have to alter my claim of catching his third-last show to having caught his fifteenth-last show, which doesn’t sound as impressive, unless of course I were to say that I caught his first, third-last show.

I think I’ve just confused myself.

I’m not sure I have the language to describe the performance I caught to night, only that my feet acquired a huge urge to tap, after and throughout the show. Flatley came out for three encores, and it was then that we got to see his individual talent, and how he acquired the title ‘Feet of Flames.’

It did cross my mind several times that I may have some unrealized obscure talent for Tap. Fortunately, though a rare event, my mind kicked into logical gear and I came to realize that any attempt of mine to do what Flatley does would probably land me with several severely torn tendons and dislocated bones in my feet. And who knows, all the Bengay I would have to put on my foot to ease the pain may actually grant me exclusivity to the title ‘Feet of Flames.’

I thought I was going to be one of those who would never be able to juggle no matter how hard I tried. And then, wham! It just came to me. Just like they said.

Juggling is a lot like learning to ride a bike. Once you’ve got it, you’ll always have it. And just like cycling, when you’ve got it for the first time, you just won’t stop for fear that you may lose it. And there’s an incredible sense of relief to wake up the next morning to wake up the next morning, and the morning after, and still be able to repeat the feat.

It still amazes me how, at one point, I could be so hopeless, and then in the next be not so hopeless. It’s as though the switchboard operator in my brain grew bored of my juggling mishaps and failed attempts and decided to connect the juggling wire to the juggling socket at the back of my head.