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Marecumbe Dance school
Good. Now I will not have to worry about what bus I take, leaving too early, getting off at a different stop and making conversation with you while we walk in the dark. Was my inner thought “Oh don't say that about yourself” was my outer sentiment.
I kept going to the classes by myself.
I have yet to figure out exactly what the dress code is
The lady teacher wears tight jeans, a tee shirt, sunglasses and is always chewing gum. I am so jealous of her when she dances. It is like, even during the warm up she is jamming. She just moves with ease like Jo-Lo when she was still just dancing on In Living Color and before she had to remind us all that she was from a block…Whatever Jenny…Anyway…Like that. I definitely have a dance crush on her.
The man teacher, who is the one that teaches my class most of the time is hilarious. He is very…”fabulous.” He always eats a mango as he teaches class and he sings the commands:
Las piernas! (Legs)
Los hombros! (shoulders)
So I follow the directions and watch the crowd most times because I am not always sure what he is saying. I raise my arms and I do the steps and I shimmy my shoulders when he asks. But I must admit that I have a favorite command…
So “Setsy” means do whatever we were previously doing…but sexy. So instead of just left…right…left…right, hump your hips. Do the forward snake. Shimmy those shoulders just a little harder…Love it.
We do the Meregue, Salsa, Rhomba, and Cumbia.
Today was different though. I went to a another class, not the one that I normally go to. It was really different. I should have been alarmed when I realized that I was the only person in workout clothes. Every other woman had on tight jeans and flat shoes…one lady even had on Debbie Allen “Fame” leggings and heels. The men were casual and one guy even had on white loafers. I did not let it bother me…at first. Then we got into dancing. I could roll for a minute
Los Brazos…got 'em
Las Piernas…got ‘em
Mediodia (which is what I think he says but it means half turn)…got it
Then we partnered up
One thing that I was thankful for was that he was a man that was not afraid to lead. He took me, with force I might add, and spun me around. One thing I was not thankful for was that his breath smelled like a New York city bus station bathroom.
We did the Salsa…I was fine until we got to Setsy.
Me, in my t-shirt, sports bra , sweat pant coolots and sneakers was no match, or partner for that matter, for Mr. white loafer sour mouth.
Setsy...not so much
I felt like…well…a cow. I couldn’t keep up. I kept getting tangled. I would catch glances of the other women in their tight jeans and flats, gliding across the floor and Ms. Debbie Allen “Fame” leggings just doing her thing and suddenly I felt really embarrassed. I just felt like I was too big and too clumsy and just looked crazy…not Setsy at all.
So when it was time to change partners I left. I just got my bag and walked out. Then I stopped at a little store and bought a can…yes can...of beer and walked home. I felt a little bad about buying the beer so I threw it away…
And by "threw it away," I mean down my throat…Setsy like.