You Know When You’ve Been Salsa’ed

I had overlooked the fact, when agreeing to accompany Dynabum to a salsa class that it was on the same night as the new series of Scrubs. If only I had checked the calendar first. All new Scrubs and Desperate Housewife episodes are clearly entered and highlighted every Tuesday and Wednesday.

Now committed, I took solace in the fact it should be a hilarious evening of stumbling and bumbling and should amuse me equally as well as any sitcom. As we arrived in our non-approved footwear, I realised we were three inches closer to the ground than any other woman in attendance. A gilded feast of high heels in silver, gold and bronze, glided onto the dance floor. I feared the worst.

The instructor made a bee line for the very obvious newcomers, announcing that the class was actually for ‘improvers’ not beginners but we were welcome to join in if we felt able and we might just pick it up.

“Hmmmm” I thought. As my mind floated back to the one time I’d attended an aerobics class with my sister and the instructor had asked us both to stay behind for ‘a chat’ at the end, I realised that I could be in a slighty sticky situation. At least Dynabum was in the same boat.

As we sat on the sidelines, awaiting instruction, Dynabum said, “You’ve danced before haven’t you?”. “No I haven’t, you haven’t have you?” I replied, apprehensive of her answer from her assumption that I was naturally skilled in the art of co-ordination. “Of course I have”. As she continued, reeling off her classical training in modern and ballet and listing the gang shows and productions of Fame and Joseph she’d appeared in, I was finding it hard to believe that this woman I’d known for three years hadn’t ever mentioned she had another life as a Cabaret Queen. Before I had time to run away, I was pulled into line, next to all those lucky people who’d enjoyed twenty weeks training.

And we were off. Sneaky Snakehips fell straight into step with the ease of someone who’s spent too much time watching Dirty Dancing and, oh yes, being classically trained in dance!!!

Despite watching Dirty Dancing myself more than forty times, Johnny wasn’t there to hold my hand to his ‘ca cum’ heart or steer my oversized bottom through this horrible up tempo nightmare I was lined up in. To give you a feel for my footwork, let me refer you to my ‘Baby Animals’ Valentine book, Page 65 – ‘Baby elephant trying to find it’s feet’. Put some rollerblades on that elephant and you’d have something akin to my salsa debut.

The rest of the evening was spent locked in Salsabum’s (renamed) vice like grip as she pushed and span me like a school bully. As we left, Salsabum was praised by the teacher for her efforts and was told she’d have no trouble picking up the routine. All eye contact with me was avoided.