Murder Attempts & Rhythmless Salsa??!!!

Okay I know this is way too long, so if you have a short attention span (like Beg & Ja-me) please feel free to only read the bolded lines to get an idea of the post.

Yesterday evening Beg and I went to our first Salsa lesson!

First off let me say that Beg is a great friend! I told her I would come to her house before the class, but she better make me something to eat before we leave for the lesson. To my surprise, when I got to her house she had pulled out the salmon (that she caught herself) and a baked potato just for me!!

When I woke up from my minute nap to her screaming at me, I had a full plate! The potato was excellent (great job Beg!), but the salmon tasted a little…different. I usually broil my salmon and she steamed hers so I figured I was just not used to the steamed taste. Then I reasoned that since I usually buy my salmon in nice neat little frozen blocks from Costco, it could just be that I’m not used to the taste of “fresh” salmon.

Never did it enter into my mind that Beg was actually trying to kill me until I decided to stop picking at the top layer of the fish and just slice down the middle. To my horror the fish was totally raw!!! When I inquired of her why she would serve me ‘not even half cooked’ salmon, she just grinned and said, “I’m trying to kill you”. Okay well maybe she wasn’t that blunt, but she didn’t deny that her motive was to kill me when questioned further!!!

SALSA!!
At our lesson we noticed right off that there were no people of the Latino heritage in the class. Straight away I began to doubt his ability as a teacher. If you go into a Mexican restaurant and there are no Mexicans, wouldn’t you be hesitant to eat there? Better yet, if there are absolutely NO black folks eating in a soul food restaurant, shouldn’t you high tail it outta there so that you don’t run the risk of hurling the flavorless collards into the owners face? The only exception I think is Chinese food. If you go to a Chinese food restaurant and there are ONLY Chinese people there, you better not even sit down. It’s quite possible that you’ll be served something with boiled eyeballs and toes in it.

Back to the class-
The teacher was okay. We went over the basic steps then partnered up. This was the worst part of the class. Beg was coupled up with a bona fide black chicken man. This is a rare breed of black man that has the rhythm of a chicken…shuffling his chicken feet across the room at an uneven pace…jerking his head haltingly back and forth in true chicken fashion.

Beg wasn’t the only one who had a horrible partner. Almost every man in that class had no rhythm, with the exception of (now get this) the white guys in the class!!! Every single white guy (though a little stiff in movement) had more rhythm than the black, Pilipino, and unidentifiable men in the class!! I was beyond shocked, mostly because the black men happened to be the absolute worst in the rhythm department!

I have a new theory: Many people, born for whatever God given reason with no rhythm, have the impression that they can go to a class and learn the technical steps, thereby voiding out the fact that they have absolutely no rhythm. This is simply not true!! The fact is that the rhythmless male dancer is the most dangerous! They prowl the night clubs for unsuspecting rhythm having lady dancers, appearing to be “the real rhythm deal”. The female has no idea what hit them. One minute they have their hopes up that this dance will be the dance of a million fires, the next minute they’re stuck on the dance floor looking like a dayum fool!

See, in Latin dance the man leads and the woman follows, thereby leaving the woman to suffer an entire song dancing off beat if the man is in denial about his rhythmless nature. It’s truly not fair. I think there should be a rhythm test before you can enter a club. This test will result in either a green wrist band (rhythm approved), or a red band (WARNING>>>Rhythm deficient!!). This way the rhythmless dancers can couple with each other and the rhythm having dancers can dance together…OR the rhythmless male with the red band will know that if he asks the woman with the green band to dance, that SHE will need to lead in order to keep the beat.

Anyways, Beg and I have paid for 4 consecutive lessons so we have to keep going. Maybe it’ll get better. Maybe more men will come and they will miraculously have rhythm! Maybe not. Either way, it was cool to get started learning more SALSA and laughing at all the people in the so called “advanced” class. Keep your eye out. Beg and I may be coming to salsa in a local dance club near you!

P.S. I know this is long but I have to recount my first experience in a Salsa club a few weeks ago with Beg and my friend J.

I love salsa clubs! It was so different from the mauling you usually receive at regular dance clubs. There’s structure and sexiness, and lots of spinning!! The only bad experience I had was with this African guy. I still have a problem with retelling it because I was sooo traumatized...hell I’m STILL traumatized!

I had just finished dancing with some really fun guys and then this African guy comes up to me and asks to dance. I was having a ball so I was glad to try all of the moves again. It started up cool. The live music was fast paced and kicking! He took us through the basic steps and then into a quick turn.

Next thing I knew he had me in this tight embrace. My arm was pinned to his chest. I guess you could say we were dancing cheek to cheek. I tried to pull back but he had a really firm grip on me. The more I pulled the tighter his grip got. I figured that I could deal with it for just one song…that is until I began to feel something sliding up and down on my leg. This fool was actually grinding his “Galactic Enterprise” (I’m writing this at work) on me!

Not in a discrete “oh this is just my way of getting into the music” type of way, no! This fool was out and out molesting my leg. I immediately pushed my butt out so that his “acorns” could no longer attain pleasure from my leg.

I caught the eye of Beg who was dancing near me. I kept motioning with my eyes and mouthing for her to please come help me. That bastard girl refused to help me!!! She just looked at me and started cracking up laughing at me!!! She looked as though she was going to bust a gut. I gave her the finger with my free hand and told her where she could go (she later told me that the guy she was dancing with told her that he thought I may need some help, and she told him that she thought it was funny and started to laugh! Bastardo!!!).

Finally the song ended and he thanked me for offering up my innocent leg for him to sodomize and walked away. THEN Beg ran up to me and grabbed my arm. She said she wanted to make sure that he didn’t try to dance with me again…what a jerk!! Now that I was out of that fools Kung-Fu Grip I didn’t have any need for her sorry-ace help! He’d already finished doing his bid-ness on me. Too late now, I was already tainted.

What a friend! She continued her brutal laughing as she watched me walk over to our seat…curl into a ball…and rock slowly back and forth while trying to forget the feeling. Ha Ha Ha. Very funny Beg. Very funny.

You know what? After revisiting that incident, the fact that you baked me a potato means nothing! NOTHING!!! If anything you OWE me a lifetime of potatos!!!

Always in love…unless you’d leave your friend to be molested on the dance floor by an obvious rapist while she’s calling out to you in angst for help. Bastard!

Lambchop~

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