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For the second time in two years, I've been talked into going to a weekly dancing "instruction".  I say "instruction" because when I think of dance classes, I think of serious people in purple spandex jumping around with "The Nutcrucker" playing in the background.  No, no, no.  I do weekly dance instruction, just so there's no confusion.

And it's hardly been weekly.  Tonight will be week two of Salsa dance instruction.  Over a year ago, I did a West Coast swing course.  And I'll admit.  Both times were more for company and making other people happy than they were for myself.  I'm just trying to remember if it was the same person both times that organized it.  I think it was.

Although the swing course was good, it was a very small class.  So good in fact that Diane confirmed that I was indeed the "second-best guy there."  This was out of three guys.  For salsa, I'm sticking true to my Capitol Hill location and going to the Century Ballroom, which apparently is the place for dance, em, instructions in Seattle.  The turnout definitely looked like it.  There were somewhere between 40 and 100 people for the last lesson I went to.  (Sorry, I didn't actually count.)  To my pleasure, very few of them knew what they were doing.

My previous experiences with anything coordinated prior to these courses were not overly positive.  In high school, I was involved in music.  By extension, this meant if I wanted to be in theater performances, I was going to have to learn how to move in time.  I stumbled my way through, tried to keep out of the limelight for any dance-intensive numbers, but still grimace when I see a video of myself back in high school.  It's not that I wasn't moving at the right times.  It's just that I had the grace, well, of a Midwestern teenage boy with little interest in sports or coordinated activity.  At Microsoft when I was in a theater group show for Christmas, they thought it'd be cool if I sang "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" with a lady and had a dance break in the middle of the song.  This resulted in hours of listening to "Santa Claus" and flailing the poor coworker around in the lobby of the cafeteria.  Thank God for the free soda.

All of this experience has resulted in a few observations:

1. I'm better than the guy who has never danced before.
2. I know right and left, I know not to stomp my feet, and I know how to lead when dancing.
3. Salsa music really is what they play at Mexican restaurants, and it makes me immediately hungry whenever I hear it.
4. Because we're rotating among about 30 girls, I can use that joke above 30 times.
5. People have a serious eye-contact problem in this class.  I mean, you're really not supposed to look at your feet.  Even I know that.
6. This is such a highly obviously excellent way to meet people that I'm upset that I never did it before.  It's like speed-dating!  Over the course of an hour, I probably danced and talked to 15 different girls.  Some even laughed at the Salsa joke!  I'm in!
7. In case any girl who is in the class is reading this, no, I'm not checking you out when I'm dancing with you.
8. Well, maybe I am, but not in a creepy way.
9. Although it's a decent walk over and the weather has been cold (*gasp* 45 degrees!), short sleeves are a must.  The ballroom is hot.
10. Bookending the instruction session with drinks (stiff ones up front) is a great way of staying both nimble and social.
11. GOAL:  Become the 2nd-best guy in the class again.  Diane:  you'll have to let me know.
12. Diane:  your lack of rhythm is not as apparent when you dance as when you sing.

Hasta luego amigos!