Belle of the ball
Well, not really. Actually, I was just one of about four hundred people who went to the cultural center this Sunday for tango demonstrations and lessons.
They split us into two groups for the biggest group lesson in which I've participated since the J200 pre-journalism course at Mizzou.
Having taken salsa lessons for seven weeks, I grabbed a partner and learned that tango is actually very easy. Listen for the beat, march in place, wait for the leader to walk you around, march some more.
The hardest part is the marching backwards.
Oh yeah, and watch out for Al, the instructor, given to yelling "MARCH! MARCH! MARCH! PICK UP YOUR FEET! STOP! NO DANCING WHEN THERE'S NO MUSIC! WAIT ... WAIT ... WAIT! LISTEN FOR THE BEAT. MARCH!"
So after another gal and I marched forward and backwards for awhile, I got swept up by a suave sexagenarian (hey, no wonder no one uses that word) who knew what he was doing.
Al decided I would help him demonstrate the next step, which thankfully involved me mostly marching in place, following his lead and Al doing some sexy moves around my very stage-frightened body.
Have I mentioned that before I started taking salsa classes I had a fear of dancing?
Well, no more Birkenstocks on the dance floor for this gal. From here on out it's ballroom shoes and no inhibitions.
Well, not really. Actually, I was just one of about four hundred people who went to the cultural center this Sunday for tango demonstrations and lessons.
They split us into two groups for the biggest group lesson in which I've participated since the J200 pre-journalism course at Mizzou.
Having taken salsa lessons for seven weeks, I grabbed a partner and learned that tango is actually very easy. Listen for the beat, march in place, wait for the leader to walk you around, march some more.
The hardest part is the marching backwards.
Oh yeah, and watch out for Al, the instructor, given to yelling "MARCH! MARCH! MARCH! PICK UP YOUR FEET! STOP! NO DANCING WHEN THERE'S NO MUSIC! WAIT ... WAIT ... WAIT! LISTEN FOR THE BEAT. MARCH!"
So after another gal and I marched forward and backwards for awhile, I got swept up by a suave sexagenarian (hey, no wonder no one uses that word) who knew what he was doing.
Al decided I would help him demonstrate the next step, which thankfully involved me mostly marching in place, following his lead and Al doing some sexy moves around my very stage-frightened body.
Have I mentioned that before I started taking salsa classes I had a fear of dancing?
Well, no more Birkenstocks on the dance floor for this gal. From here on out it's ballroom shoes and no inhibitions.
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