Salsa Chronicles #4

I started taking Salsa lessons back in November. I found the art, science, psychology and social elements of salsa so fascinating, I started chronicling them. 

In LA Salsa dancing is quite a scene. I mean, there are multiple options for every single day of the week. Yesterday I tried somewhere new: King King in Hollywood.

I walked into King King at precisely 8:50pm, 20 minutes after class started. "And basic, 1,2,3...5,6,7," the teachers chanted. At first, even this is intimidating. Where did the 4 and 8 go? After three months though, it's like a sanscrit chant: "Om bur braha swaha..." microphone points to the crowd.

So I join in trying not to be presumptive, but also thinking, 'I am the master of the "basic step."' They teach us a "shine step." This is where you break away from your partner and do a little shoulder-shimi or ass-shake. It's good times, but still a point of awkwardness in Salsa dancing, not unlike that first go at conversation on a first date: 

"Do you like living in LA?" he asks. 

"Well I didn't at first. But now I went to hang out at this bar and these people were saying that and I was thinking how retarded they sound. I like famous people," she replies. Wait, where did he go?

If there is one thing I can handle it is dancing by myself. Boom, got the shine step down. It is the coupling up part, however, that is often a point of stress for me. 

"Let's partner up," Rodrigo, my dance teacher, announces.  

Now that my fear and awkwardness has molted, I can shake a tail feather regardless of the guy in front of me. Some of them are Divo-style robotic; so stiff it's almost like popping and locking. Others are still standing motionless in the startup position, but the combination has already finished. Mostly, every guy brings in their own style, trying to maneuver the grace of leading a lady, while mastering a new step at the same time. 

Finally, the class comes to a close and it is free dance time. As I always have come and left alone, this transition from class to free dancing makes my singleness glaringly apparent; I take a seat alone on the side and wait. 

Out of the corner of my eye I see Yosi enter. Here's an interesting cat. He has taught a couple classes in the past. I've always made efforts to forge a friendship with him, however, I find each conversation abruptly haults at Yosi defending himself:

"Yosi, when are you going to head up another Rueda class? I think the interest is there, but everyone may not know it is going on?" I say. 

"Well, I'm too busy to post it everywhere," he defends. 

And conversation close...and slowly walk away. 

So tonight, I can't find it in myself to go up to him, start up conversation and somehow walk away feeling smacked in the face with a tether ball. Arrogance is not a virtue in salsa dancing. 

That is precisely what I learned today. I look up and see the guy who repeatedly pretzeled his arms up the wrong way during class busting a move. 

"I think you only turn, I don't." I inform. 

Correcting someone with you in class, I've come to learn, is a very touchy thing. I know this from being on the receiving end. We all are here to learn and no one can assume themselves to be better than the other. During free dance time, he never came to ask me for a dance. 

"Would you like to dance?" Ari from class inquires. 

"Of course." I reply, thinking 'This is going to be a boring one for sure, I think he's a beginner.'

Before I realized we were scissoring, twisting, twirling. This guy knew what he was doing. Presumptions never pay off on the dance floor. 

Then, I look up, and see Rodrigo approaching, thinking, 'Nice he's coming to chat.' I love this guy. 

"Would you like to dance?" Rodrigo asks extending his arm.

With my internal sirens going off, I reply: "Certainly."  

Before I know it, I am misreading his turns and stumbling over my own two feet. Aeeyye mommy, nothing like a little intimidation to freeze one's capacities. Salsa never works if you think you can't do it. In my defense however, this is the video of the man I danced with.