I had my second class at the Fencers’ Club of New York last night. I was the only adult beginner there, so I had a private lesson with Szilvia Gyore, a young Hungarian woman with large diamond earrings. I started learning more about how to hold the foil (with your elbow in and your hand curved out like your arm is broken), and how to thrust, parry in fourth and sixth, and riposte. I felt like a poorly-handled marionette; Szilvia would drop her foil, I’d jerk around for a second, then make up my mind and lumber in for the point. All in all, though, I didn’t do too badly for a beginner, and I had an Olympic coach all to myself. The personal attention is fantastic. I feel like it’s the early days of UrbanFetch again, when they’d send a courier to your house to deliver a candy bar for free, if you wanted.
Or like it’s the Scientologists, and I’ll have to sign over the mortgage to my house once I’m hooked on the sport.