You Should Be Dancing

Hip's been such a trooper, I wanted to surprise her with a fun night out, so without telling her in advance where we were going, I took her salsa dancing.

Plucky little hip totally stood up to the one hour lesson, followed by the dance club infested with slick-haired men, Latin and other, all waiting to pounce on unsuspecting newbies and wrap themselves around us. Mine was named Dante. He liked to put his hand on my waist, among other places. There was so little room on the dance floor that I pretty much just hopped in place, counting 1 2 3, 5 6 7 in my head. (That's my insider nod to all you salsafies out there).

The best was the place afterwards, which was like an underground salsa version of the scene in Dirty Dancing where Jennifer Grey goes to the staff dance party and tries to dirty dance with Patrick Swayze (and I can quote you that scene - indeed, the entire film - word-for-word. The screenwriter used to be my boss). Everyone was just there to dance, and dance incredibly well. I definitely couldn't do what they were doing, and I definitely wanted to. The great thing was I couldn't do it because I didn't know what I was doing, not because of any physical impairments.

And I was definitely limping this morning, and my feet had some serious blisters, but it rocked. I'm totally going again.