Into a Writer's Head

Salsa!

Last night I decided to try something new. A group of acquaintances were going Salsa dancing, and since I've always wanted to try it, I agreed to go. I convinced Christina to join me, and we were off. Okay, we were off after 2 phone calls to discuss wardrobe choices and the nitty gritty on the Century Ballroom.
Now, most of you will have already guessed at the biggest problem I faced last night. No, not wardrobe malfunction (I leave that to Janet Jackson, thank you very much). No, my problem had more to do with my inherent grace...er, my lack of inherent grace. I have to watch my feet when I walk, to ensure I don't trip over nothing on the sidewalk. Usually I'm okay when I'm out dancing, mostly because there are no steps to remember. At least, not until you try something like Salsa. 123 and 567...And 123 and 567 (does anyone else notice that the instructor missed 4?)
The lessons were okay. At least I would know what to expect when the free dance started, right? So, first we try the steps on our own. I can do this. I'm even having a good time. Until the instructor calls out the dreaded words, "Now, find a partner". I move across the room, trying to find a guy who does not appear overly creepy to dance with. Find him, settle in, and we start dancing. So far doing a good job of not trying to lead. Then the instructor informs us that we have to switch. No longer am I safe from the creepy old men in the room. Or the creepy young men in the room for that matter.
Thankfully, the lesson did not last all that long. But long enough for me to meet a variety of men who were definitely not comfortable on the dance floor. After that I danced with some men who were fabulous (they even made ME look good), some who were creepy (the back scratcher comes to mind) and some who probably wondered what they were thinking when I didn't move the way I was urged to.
The best part of the evening had to be the people watching though. From the sparkly dancing shoes, to the fabulous skirts, to the amazing moves, I had a blast! Of course, then there were the ones who you ended up watching much like you would a train wreck. There was the gal who danced fabulously, but her arms resembled that of a chicken being electrocute, the woman who's partner bent her over like Gumby (and she popped right back up!), and the drunk one...who still managed to outshine me on the dancefloor (except when she tried some more, um, interpretive moves that made me think she was having a seizure). All in all, a fab time. I will definitely be going back (right after I sign up for some lessons, that is).

posted by Erin @ 5:11 PM