After watching the classic swing flick “Swing Kids” last year for the first time, I remember thinking to myself, “Hey, I could be their stunt double.”

The kids in the film made it look like so much fun, and the dance steps didn’t really look that difficult. Though I had never been necessarily graceful or even coordinated, I had taken the required dance class in high school gym and even made it out with an A.

So when a group of my friends asked me to go swing dancing with them at The Val Air Ballroom in Des Moines a couple of weeks ago, I was excited and confident.

In my mind, the swing was just one step above the ever-popular jitterbug. Sure, I knew there were a few more flips, turns, tosses and jumps, but I didn’t think it could be that much more complicated.

As Saturday night approached, I grew more and more anxious.

In the process of mentally preparing myself for the big event, I found myself pondering over the appropriate attire. In the movie, the girls wore flowing little dresses that skirted out to extend just past their knees.

My wardrobe didn’t hold anything of that sort, so I improvised.

I found an old jean dress that looked “cute” enough to fit the bill. Since the dress didn’t quite make it past my knees, I wore black shorts underneath so I would be prepared for all those easy flips and turns I was planning on doing.

Finally, the night arrived.

On the car ride to Des Moines, it was clear that everyone in the car was fully confident that their dancing skills were sufficient for the task that lie ahead.

“I took ballroom dancing when I was a freshman,” and “My grandfather taught me how to jive when I was in third grade,” were just a few of the words of assurance uttered on the way to the ballroom.

Driving into the dirt parking lot of our dancing destination, I was overcome with anticipation. As we walked up the stairs to the grand event, we heard the live band performing a catchy swing tune that provoked us to begin shuffling our feet prematurely.

It wasn’t until I actually entered the ballroom, though, that I experienced the shock of the night.

Out on the enormous dance floor, couples were definitely doing the swing — but it didn’t even compare to the jitterbug.

Girls were being thrown in the air and slid on the floor.

Guys were twirling, twisting and tapping in ways I didn’t think were possible.

At the side of the dance floor I watched, dumbfounded. I couldn’t believe the powerful dancing that was happening in front of me. I couldn’t believe the way the dancers twisted around each other, making their moves appear effortless.

I couldn’t believe I actually thought it would be easy.

For the rest of the night, I labored endlessly, toiling over the moves the seasoned dancers were tapping out without any visible stress.

At the end of the night, I had a few bruises from falling down and a few pulled muscles from twirling the wrong way, but I had a new mission.

I was determined to become a swing dancer, and I was determined to do it before I went back to The Val Air Ballroom.

Although it might take me a while to learn my new hobby, I’m convinced that I’ll someday be a seasoned swing dancer.

But only after I’ve learned a few steps.

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Ashley Hassebroek is a senior in journalism and mass communication from Council Bluffs.