Day 22: Salsa lessons

My sister Lisa took my mom and me to salsa lessons this weekend.  We went to Isabelle's Salsa Academy on Lincoln between Arizona and Santa Monica Bl.  I almost didn't make it because one of our guests at Thanksgiving gave me a "gentle herbal digestive aid" which, after a few glasses of wine sounded swell to me, so I popped one.  Well, I found out the next day the pill turned out to be neither gentle, nor aiding.  Enough said.  After lying flat on my back for a half hour I managed to rally.

The studio is upstairs on the second level, with a cozy little enclosed patio attached, complete with a string of white Christmas lights.  We were invited to post Thanksgiving Salsa and potluck dinner.  They recognized my sister from last week, so she was whisked away upstairs to the advanced group, while mom and I stayed downstairs in the beginner group.  Our teacher was inspirational.  She was gorgeous, packed into a pair of Rock and Republic jeans, with a precise, sensual style of teaching salsa.  Since there were only three men and eight women, our instructor took the male role.  My mom and I teamed up, so that every combination we learned we practiced with a man - first he danced with my mom and then he turned around and danced with me.  I was wary of the first man, who looked pale and a little spazzy, with pants pulled up way too high -- and seemed three sheets to the wind.  Well, it turns out he was, but he was awesome!  Neil took charge, telling me in his slurry Scottish accent to stop leading.  He said, "everything you need to know I'm going to tell you by my hand movements.  Women don't make decisions in salsa.  It's easy."  I started to argue with him, but he told me this is not a feminist dance, so I let go and followed, and it was easy.  He was not the most graceful dancer, but it turned out he blew all of our other partners out of the water.  When you have an unsteady dude with two left feet leading you, it's sort of a lost cause.  Well, we managed to master several different steps and combos.  Toward the end of the hour and a half lesson we were putting all the combinations together, and we were dancing!  The music was great and everyone got in the spirit.

After sweating it out on the dance floor, we had earned our leftovers.  We noshed on a Thai rice dish, turkey, and pretzels and apple pie.  Neil was working his third or fourth chardonnay, and working the patio, hitting on everything that moved.  Couples took to the floor to dance, and it was great to see people who really knew what they were doing, totally in sinc, making it all look so easy.  Mom turned in the sparkly dance shoes she had borrowed from the selection near the entrance, and she and Lisa and I walked back downstairs.  I waved goodbye to Neil on the way down, and we walked out into the atypical FREEZING Santa Monica night.