‘Hip Chicks Out’ boot scoot rides out into the sunset

Editor’s note: Robyn Vie-Carpenter originally wrote this for the Sept. 7 issue of Out Front Colorado. However, recent findings reveal that Hip Chicks Out has cancelled the boot scoot. This editorial is a tribute, unedited.

It’s another Saturday night in Denver. What’s a lesbian to do?

Well, if it’s the third Saturday of the month, then it’s all about Boot Scoot!

Hip Chicks Out, one of Denver’s top lesbian events groups, hosts its Boot Scoot every third Saturday of the month at City Hall Event Center on Broadway.

Many of you may remember Miss C’s, the lesbian country bar on East Colfax that closed a couple of years ago. Since then the only way for a gal to get her groove on to Rascal Flats was at Charlie’s. However, since Charlie’s is predominantly a gay man’s bar, the crowd is a little male heavy most nights.

If you were looking for a more “genteel” approach to country, there was no real alternative dance spot.

And finally, Silke Reuthlinger’s Hip Chicks Out gave birth to Boot Scoot. Offering women a country night once a month, which seems to work out perfectly for Denver lesbians.

Interjection – I do not really have any sort of history with country music or country dancing. Previously, I had been to C’s and only danced on the dance floor during the “in-between” sets, when they played Top 40 hits. I would stand off to the side during line dancing and practice the steps. I was always too nervous to get out on the dance floor, a strange and foreign feeling for me. I didn’t want to make a mistake and look ridiculous.

Hip Chicks Out has got you covered if you are anything like me by offering women a way to combat their fear of looking ridiculous. Boot Scoot offers lessons for the first hour, at 8 p.m. This past Saturday the dance instructor from Olivia Vacations was even here to help out the less-than-confident line-dancer. Even though I only caught the tail end of the lesson, the women looked great.

Since I missed the majority of the lesson, I began thinking, oh no! Am I going to be doomed to stand in the back until they play something I know how to dance to? My groove thang was horrified.

It was about this time that Silke, who is rumored to be an awesome two-stepper, made her way over to me and asked me to dance. I was honored – and petrified.

I ended up handling myself with just enough two-steppin’ talent that I only got nervous a couple of times. Mostly, I soaked up being led around the dance floor by a saucy woman. It was over as soon as I finally felt like I was getting the hang of it.

But the euphoria stayed with me. I danced, without falling or making a fool of myself or my partner. I felt a part of the Boot Scoot for the first time and I couldn’t stop smiling. Not to mention, there is something quite romantic about country dancing that attracts women from all ages and styles. There are young women, women my age and older, real cowgirls – and weekend ones. Some were wearing cowgirl boots and Wranglers while others had converse high-tops and skinny jeans on. The women at City Hall were dancing, laughing, talking and having a great time.

I came, I danced and I left. I had one more stop to make.

Charlie’s.

Here, country dancing is a sport.

When the dancers are all in sync, the dance floor at Charlie’s operates like a well oiled piece of farm equipment. However, partner dancing and line dancing is definitely not for the faint of heart like myself. You have to be bold and ready to jump in with both feet. And hopefully they’re not both left feet.

I decided that I definitely need more lessons before I felt brave enough to dance at Charlie’s.

It was getting late and my boots were getting tight. It was time to mosey home.

I’m a city girl, but I love learning something new, even if it requires me to saddle up and two-step.  Tonight, it wasn’t just about learning a new dance, it was about learning how to trust someone to take me on a journey across the dance floor.  If you lead me, I have to follow.  It’s bit of a scary proposition.

Maybe country isn’t your thing, or maybe it could be if you muster up the courage to try.

So, after a Saturday night of two-steppin’ on tired tootsies, I claimed a small victory. Thanks to Silke we’ve got a place to hang our hats, scoot our boots and get cozy on the dance floor.