My dance instructor quickly found me to tell me his good news: an agent is interested in his book! Thrilled, I listened to the details as he animatedly told me his plan to meet deadline. His book-writing process has become a bit of a vicarious experience for me as I've been privileged enough to hear the full story line, listen to the soundtrack (cool idea, huh?), and read a few of the chapters to help edit. Engrossed in the discussion of revisions, I nearly missed the call for the Viennese Waltz. But it was the same song they play nearly every week, the one that a friend despises because it reminds him of a Merry Go-Round. Tonight, though, I shook off the normal eye-role induced by the music and interrupted the conversation because I was on a mission: dance.
Sure enough, my Viennese Waltz instructor was in period wear and not yet taken for the dance. Before I knew it, I was rocking with him to feel the beat and then lickety-split, off we were spinning around the dance floor. If anything at ground level can rival flying, this dance has got to be it. The movement is so quick, the heel step step, back step step, rotate around your partner and the dance floor all at the same time--it's exhilarating. And tiring. I was breathing like I'd just run for five or ten minutes when we finished, but I was glad I had made it through without causing either one of us to stumble and fall. What a way to warm up! I think this is my new favorite dance, even though two lessons in it doesn't quite make me a pro.
With forty-five minutes left, I was eager to dance as much as possible. I danced the waltz with my regular instructor, the rumba with my good ol' buddy Lee (I tried to practice my Cuban hip motion), the hustle with the man who is actually a bit shorter than I am. I was reminded while dancing the cha cha with a teenager that my Latin dances have seen little improvement lately, which was confirmed when I tried salsa with my usual waltz partner. In between dances, it was fun to chit chat with friends, most female, since there is a shortage of men at these things. And then, after a rough swing dance or two, the party was over.
I'll certainly miss going every Friday night. I just might have to search for Latin dancing in Guate.
My book-writing dance instructor
My fellow educator friends
My fellow ministry friend
(I really wanted to get more pics, but the instructor meeting was taking too long and some of my regular dance friends weren't there tonight. :( Oh well. Memories will work!)
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