June 13th, 2004

children of dune - leto 1

(no subject)

So. Salsa dancing.

That was new.

Years and years and years ago, when dinosaurs roamed the earth, for my requried PE course my freshman year of college, I took ballroom dancing. It didn't look too traumatic, and I like to dance. Getting the count? Fine. Steps? Repetition is the key to success.

What pretty much had to be learned from scratch was how *not* to lead, and many a pair of toes and many a knee was injured during my learning curve. And this did *not* make me popular as a partner, in so many ways.

Anyway, since it was Vannezsa's birthday, she chose what we did, and her friend R came along, who is *taking* salsa classes, and well. I didn't accidentally kill him or anything, and a few minutes of watching was enough for body memory to remind me how to do most of the simpler steps, but my God, I am physically incapable of letting someone else lead anymore. Every time I tried, I'd lose the step, fall into something/someone, or both. I think it's a trust issue. On the other hand, it was a blast, and R is a good dancer who is probably even better when he's not not with me and my miniwar for control of the dance.

It was incredible fun to watch, though. Almost mesmerizing, and so many were so *good* and did the coolest turns and twists and I want to learn again. No one was drunk, everyone looked happpy, and the level of random groping was at an all-time low.

This one time in class, my professor called us one by one to dance with him as our final--he variated through several different kinds, from tango to merengue (spelling?), samba, jitterbug, two others I cannot remember the names of (rumba?) with one step lead in, so it was basically follow his lead. Luckily, by then, he'd worked with me enough so I could actually do it without trying to drag control away. The second part was teh waltz/foxtrot/two step/Texas two step, and then the nightmare that is a polka.

For those who love the polka. Good for you. Me? I've had to watch and/or dance one since childhood--it, like the waltz and the chicken dance, is a staple of every wedding and dance in creation, and no two are ever alike. And I still don't get *why* the chicken dance. WHY IS THERE A CHICKEN DANCE EVERYWHERE I GO?

Anyway, that was fun, so she wants to go back, and I suppose that means I'd better start practicing in front of the mirror how *not* to kill my partner, should anyone be foolish enough to ask me to dance. That's really the only thing I have against it. Most clubs, you do your thing and if someone wants to join in, more power to them. Here, there's an unsettling, high-school dance feeling, since you kinda need a partner, complete with chairs around the edges of the floor, but with alcohol, smoking, and some people making out in dark corners. Hmmm. Okay, very much like a high school dance, then. I want a skirt. It was just fun to watch the flipping around of the skirt things during turns and dips and spins and damn.

Afterward, we spent an hour, four phone calls, and some angst trying to find Waffle House, because for some reason, waffles just sounded amazing at three in the morning. In case you're curious, it's exactly where they said it was the first time, hwy 79 past Riverside, but damned if we didn't try to stick it on several different street combinations no matter what they told us. Hmm.