Jumping into the Deep End... Part 2

Otherwise known as... I Choose to Swim.

As chronicled in Part 1, I had plans to go to the monthly Salsa Social at Salsa Heat in the Slightly Bigger Town next to My Small Town last night.  I told Linette that I was planning to wear my magical ruffled black and white polka-dotted skirt.  Uh oh.  Bringing out the big guns!  Hey, I need all the help I can get-- this skirt gives me confidence.  After I dressed and made myself sparkle, I practiced my moves in the living room.  We have this marvelous laminate flooring that is just perfect for dancing.  I'm working on getting my roommate, Chuck, to lessons.  If I could practice with a partner at home, I would be unstoppable!  Still, I am trying... on my own. 

Linette picked me up around seven.  We hit the ATM, then went to our favorite pre-dancing dining establishment, Three Sisters Speakeasy, for a bit of nourishment and liquid courage.  We had a couple of beers, and caught up on each other's lives.  It was a multicultural meal-- I had sushi and Linette had a quesadilla.  They were both good... and the beer, inhibition-lessening.

Which is exactly what we needed.

Linette hadn't been to a lesson in nearly two weeks, so she was quite nervous at her skill-level.  I just wanted more practice.  Even though I went to two lessons this week, I knew I would mistakes, but I was up for trying something new, and excited for the outside-of-comfort-zone experience. 

We arrived at Salsa Heat just before 9:00, which is when a workshop was being offered.  I kept up with the routine during most of the steps, but near the end the instructor threw in a funky left turn and I was lost.  Depending on the partner, I could do it okay... but not great.  At one point during the workshop, I couldn't locate Linette on the floor.  A few minutes later, I spotted her sitting down at a table.  My eyes searched hers, she shook her head.  The instructor was moving far beyond what she had learned in two classes of Beginners One.  I was frustrated.  I wanted my partner in crime to have a good time.  It's no fun being a wallflower.  She had told me before we went that her greatest fear was being the girl that no one asked to dance.

I knew that wouldn't happen.  There was just no way.

When they started playing music, Linette told me she needed to take a pause before getting out there.  No one initially asked me to dance, so I just stood and practiced basic step.  I knew if I looked like I wanted to dance, sooner or later someone would rescue me.

Or I'd just look like a crazy woman dancing with herself.  There were maybe fifty people out on the dance floor.  This was just the right amount-- crowded enough so that I didn't feel self-conscious, but not so crowded that there wasn't room to move.

I didn't have to wait long.  Within about a minute, Daniel-san, a young man who had been an excellent partner during the workshop, came up to me.  Jen, you can't dance by yourself!  We found the one beat and started moving.  He knew I was only in Beginners 2, and he was gentle.  It was so much fun!  After that an older man named Jorge asked me to dance, followed by Great Dancing Argentinian (GDA), who asked me my last name so he could friend me on Facebook.

I'm sure he asks that of all his women on the dance floor.

GDA was a great dancer too, and I really enjoyed being his partner.  He smiled and talked to me and was a great teacher.  I saw Linette out on the floor with Dexter, a guy who had been in a Beginners 1 class with us.  Success!  Dexter and I danced together as well.  I had told Linette at the start of the evening that I wanted to stay at least until 11:00.  We made it to close to 11:30.  I was proud of us.  It wasn't easy, and as I knew I would, I made a lot of mistakes, but I won't learn without mas practica, and last night was a part of that practice.  There is another social next Sunday in Orlando.  I am contemplating attending.  I have to keep dancing the steps.

When we left Salsa Heat, and made it out into the parking lot, I became acutely aware of my feet.  They hurt.  Badly.  It's funny how I didn't notice until I was outside.  I truly believe it was the endorphins that kept the pain at bay.  Even today the balls of my feet feel a bit bruised and tender.  I guess that's that's the cost of wearing 3 inch dancing shoes.  But hey, it's a cost I will gladly pay.

In salsa, as in life, I can most certainly sink or swim.  I am choosing to swim.

I just never thought I would swim in three inch golden heels.