Monday, 19 May 2014

All that was missing was the tight leotard, fake tan, and sparkling sequins... thankfully.

Friday turned into a spontaneous night out that didn't end until around 4am Saturday morning.

Myself, One-And-Only-Daniela and No-Nickname-Yet-Tshepiso met up after work as it was No-Nickname-Yet-Tshepiso's birthday. The plan was to go to a nice bar, have a couple of drinks and then head home as No-Nickname-Yet-Tshepiso had theatre tickets. This didn't quite happen. Instead, we started our night here:

And ended up here:

Ladies and gents, that's not just a normal club, that's a salsa club... full of people who can salsa... professionally... and One-And-Only-Daniela and I.

One-And-Only-Daniela and myself can categorically not salsa professionally. We can look at others and be impressed at their salsa prowess, we can also tap our toes in the rhythm of the music, and we can order wine from the bar, but we definitely do not qualify as salsa dancers.

However, we're up for new experiences and No-Nickname-Yet-Tshepiso likes to salsa, it was also her birthday so it was her decision on where to go... and so we went.

So how did we get to that place? Well, we decided at the bar (where we had started at for "just a couple of drinks" after work) that we would meet up with No-Nickname-Yet-Tshepiso after her theatre. We used the time No-Nickname-Yet-Tshepiso spent in the theatre to buy spontaneous outfits that suited 'going out' better, (mine wasn't that complicated, just 'take off the jeans I was wearing with my dress and put on new shoes and tights'), touch up make up, eat something substantial so we lasted the night, and try to forget the fact that (in my case) there had only been a total of four hours of sleep had the night before.

We then were led blindly to the salsa club. The night was awesome. Whilst queueing up, I had a nice chat with a homeless lady who only spoke in high squeals and was telling me how, in the future, we would all be wearing stick on lipsticks and living in spaceships. I agreed with this hypothesis and bid her adieu as I entered the club. Then began the search for a table where both One-And-Only-Daniela and I could suitably hide ourselves from the rest of the crowd, for fear that someone would mistake us for a person who knew what they were doing and try and get us to dance...

If only it had worked... but alas it didn't. Instead, a mere half an hour later, I found myself being pulled onto the dancefloor, despite my protests that I had no clue what I was doing, and suddenly the music took over my partner and I was being thrown all over the place.

I want to say at this point that some form of deeply hidden musicality rose within me, but sadly this was not the case. Instead, I resembled something close to a cat being thrown around a room. My legs and arms flailed around the place in such a style that (in the words of the great Strictly Come Dancing head judge Len) 'only my mother would love...' And I have to say, I'm not too sure if Marmie really would have loved it, if she had seen it. However, I persevered, thinking that we had started halfway through a song, so I only needed to wait out the remainder of the song and then I could laugh it off and run in the opposite direction. The end of the song came and I made a move to leave, but my partner apparently seemed to enjoy dancing with someone who kept on treading on his toes and stumbling over her own, because he simply pulled me further into the dancefloor for the next song.

Guys, if I had been terrified and out of my depth previously, that was nothing compared to not only trying to do what your dance partner is instructing you to do, but also trying to do it whilst navigating yourself around what felt like thousands of other dancing couples. Such was my shame that any time my partner pulled me into a hold with him, I would just repeat over and over, "I'm sorry, I'm so, so, sorry" in his ear. He would then laugh and spin me out, followed by spinning me in the opposite direction, and then deciding that (as I had handled all of that so elegantly) I could definitely pull off the intricate 'armography' that happens in salsa. He began throwing my arms around his shoulders and my own and suddenly I was scared I would accidentally strangle him... but you'll be pleased to know I did not. I just apologised in his ear... again... I think he got the point that I was apologetic.

Needless to say, I appointed myself as official bar waitress after that, contributing to the night by rehydrating everyone whilst they did it properly. It was a fun night. They had a salsa performance as well halfway through which appealed to the 'Strictly Come Dancing' fan within me, and once again I was struck by the complete joy and gratitude that I have for being lucky enough to live in a city so amazing as London. Guys, I talk about it a lot, but man, I love this place. No matter what you are into, there will be a place for it... who would want to live anywhere else?

Peace out my lovelies.

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