Friday, September 10, 2010

Dancing disaster

Seeing as how I am living in Chile, I feel that Salsa lessons are almost a must. Last week one of my friends surprised me with a call to see if I or anybody else would be interested in taking some dance lessons for pretty cheap, and I agreed. It only ended up being myself and two of my guy friends who signed up. So yesterday at about 4pm, we met up to grab a quick beer before our first class. I actually had a fanschop which is orange Fanta and beer. While this sounds terrible, it's actually a delicious, semi-sweet afternoon drink. It was sunny and warm out, so it was a perfect day to sit outside sipping cool brews. The men who worked at the little diner we decided upon were incredibly nice. They were the epitome of good service and made sure we new all of our options for eating and drinking.

After we finished our schop's, we headed over to the metro where we were to meet up for the lessons. We only found two other gringos, but after waiting for a while we called the organizer, and made our way to the studio(?). I'm not sure one could actually call it a studio, it was more of a huge run down house filled with artsy, poetic looking people and walls covered in posters, bright peeling paint, and sheets instead of window panes. Anyways, more people finally show up, and we get to dancing. We all practiced the basic steps, and got ourselves ready to dance with partners. There were more guys than girls, so we all lined up so that we could switch partners easily, and everyone would have a chance to dance with everyone else. Most of the guys could dance pretty well, and those who couldn't had a good sense of humor about the awkwardness of the situation. There was one (isn't there always?), however, that was the absolute worst. He could not dance, was sweating profusely, I mean absolutely dripping, and refused to get pointers. I tried nicely explaining to him what the right steps were, and the teacher came up to him multiple times to point out his not so minor errors. He just kept doing what he was doing wrong, periodically wiping the sweat off of his forehead, then replacing his sweaty hand in mine to continue our disastrous attempt at salsa. Any time I said anything, he would semi-shout, "JUST STOP, OKAY? I'M THE GUY!!! I'M SUPPOSED TO LEAD! JUST STOP!" For those of you who don't know me too well, I do not react well when men try to dominate or control me like this. I do understand that in salsa, the male traditionally leads. This, however was over the line. I kept my peace, however, until the end of the lesson when I blatantly explained to my friends that if Mr. I Can't Dance To Save My Life told me what to do again, he would not leave until I gave him a piece of my mind.

Even with my failed dance partner, I had a great time at the lesson, and am looking forward to the next one!

No comments:

Post a Comment