A splash of salsa

STOP, says the girl at the gate.

"Here for the salsa," says Glamorous.

Oh, goes the girl, and what names are we booked under?

"Um, haven't booked," says Glamorous, "thought we could buy tickets at the door?"

Girl consults friend boy. Decides we are safe to be let into Salsa Splash at the Lakeside Classic Resort, Hayling Island. Hands us wristband-tickets.

“Pay at reception,” she says. “Ask for Mr Richards.”

Empty reception. Salsa or no salsa, Mr Richards doesn’t believe in manning the desk -- or having it manned –- at 10:30 pm, Saturday. We walk around looking for him. Lots of black-tied men and gowned girls, but no Mr Richards. Nobody knows him.

Sorry, Mr Richards, if you want my money –- by the way, isn’t £20 a bit steep? -- do drop me a note…

Inside, more black ties and evening gowns scattered around a well-lit dance floor, where a sizeable crowd is swaying to live hip-hop. After dinner.

“Do you feel a bit shabby?” asks Smiles. She and me, we are in casuals. Glamorous smiles smugly –- she’s in a black gown, make-up on, hair in place, etc.

“Uh, a bit,” I say. “But whoever heard of salsa in a suit?”

It is a dinner-dance, I know. As always, the women look gorgeous, but men salsaing in dress shirts and black ties look strange -- almost like being at ballroom in jeans and t-shirt.

Floor, way too crowded. Easily the biggest -- and best -- crowd I have seen at salsa this summer. Plenty of good dancers (more women than men). But everybody is dancing on somebody else’s toes. The Cubans cope well, but the New York guys find it hard going. If I am not mistaken, I am not the only one who sent one girl for a crossbody and got back another.

Noticed on and around the floor: way too many good-looking girls waiting to be asked while most men -– silly twits –- dance with people they know. And the girls -– sillier twits -– instead of going for a man continue to stand around.

Why?

“Because,” says Glamorous. “It is inappropriate for a girl to ask in certain places -- or you will end up with egg on your face. Like, I asked this guy, an instructor… I knew him from long, at a big event like this, and he said, ‘Sorry, I am here to have fun’.”

Um, I thought having fun at salsa was about dancing. Silly me. But seriously girls, bugger the rules and go for a man –- no man worth dancing with will refuse you a dance.

Noticed also at the event…

Tracie of TLC collapsed at table with bottle of water and two friends fanning her (she recovered to dance some more)…

Enrique, friend, and Lorna of Salsa Explosion watching more and dancing less…

Pretty girl scattering dancers around by flinging herself violently at boy all evening long…

Faces from Caliente and elsewhere returning smiles wholeheartedly (sociological note to self: strangers at familiar venue become friends at strange venues)…

Dr L salsaing gloriously to forget molecular biology and membrane transport of protein…

Dirty Dancing outside the main ballroom to hip-hop music (observed by Glamorous on her way out)…

Two bachatas, two cha chas (thank you, DJ Brown), but no merengue (shame on you, DJ Brown)…

And now Mr Richards, if you could please let Robert and Jean White of Mambo City know it was a fantastic night, we all enjoyed it, and thank you so very much for organising it?

And, oh, about the money, I was not kidding.

Thou shalt...

DID you know in Indianapolis there are more men dancing than women? Thank goodness things are a bit different in England –- and may it remain that way forever.

That bit of information -- is that a one-off, or the norm? -- came from a column by Erin Lamb, a successful instructor in Indianapolis. Here are her thoughts, mainly for women: No, but thank you. Another interesting post, from Indysalsero, a salsa-addict from the same populous city: Rejection on the dance floor. For men. While both specifically talk about the salsa scene, I think all social dancers can glean something from their posts (though I do beg to differ with Erin on at least one point). Do check them out!

Let me add my own thoughts to the mix. What follows is from a man’s perspective, born out of two-and-a-half years of watching social dancers in England (both ballroom and salsa). This is my rant to all those gorgeous creatures fringing the floor, waiting for a man. Feel free to step on my toes if I am not talking sense:

Thou Too Shalt Ask
Men like to be asked, too. So please, don't go all dainty and ladylike on us -- not all the time, anyway -- and stand around the fringes waiting for our hand. Try walking up to us and asking instead. We are insecure beings, you know that. It gives us great pleasure when a gal takes the initiative. :-)

Thou Shalt Ask Men Who Have Asked Thee
Yes, you are a fabulous dancer. Yes, we love dancing with you. But don’t take us for granted. We’ve asked you four times -- so how about asking us? If you don’t, what you are telling us is this: ‘I am not so keen to dance with you, but if you want I might oblige.’ Sorry lady, we no want.

Thou Shalt Avoid Cliques
Try not to cling on to your girlfriends. Nothing frightens us more than having to come across and ask one girl from among a bunch. In our heart of hearts we are all chivalrous gentlemen, and it pains us to make obvious who we consider the fairest of lilies (especially to the lilies).

Thou Shalt Not Chat At Song-Ends
Is important to catch up with your girlfriend, agreed. But please end it before the next dance. If we walk up and see you deep in conversation, we will keep walking.

Thou Shalt Position Thyself
Right, there’s this lovely guy -- bless his twinkle toes -- whom you just have to dance with. But he’s popular, and girls just cut across the floor to grab him. How do you get his attention? Try this: move over to his side of the floor early. Position yourself where he would walk off -- and make your move confidently as soon as the song ends. It will save you the inelegant dash across the floor.

Thou Shalt Accept Gracefully
Whatever else you do, don’t give us the ‘Oh-okay’ attitude when we ask for a dance. That isn’t okay with us. Pretend you are pleased. And keep pretending -- unless you really don’t want to dance with us again.

Thou Shalt Smile At Us
Dance with us when you are dancing -- not with the guy in the far end of the room. Concentrate on your partner, look at him. Occasionally smile through the pain of being stepped on… We don’t just want to dance, we want to dance with you.

Thou Shalt Not Refuse A Dance If Thou Can Help It
Don’t do it unless you have a very, very good reason to (maybe the guy mistook you for his wife and snogged you on the floor… or maybe he is a ‘dangerous’ dancer… something like that). It’s downright rude and will work against you. One, it might frighten off the less-confident men; two, some confident men, who may also be sensible, might decide not to ask you since you are so uppity.

Thou Shalt Make Up If Thou Has Refused
Let’s say you had to refuse us a dance because you were already committed. No worries. But ensure you grant us the next dance -- and this time, it is up to you to walk up to us and say, ‘Shall we?’ That’s elementary etiquette.

Thou Shalt Be Good To Beginners
Don’t go for the good ones alone. It takes a lot of courage for a beginner to walk up to you. How about walking up to him, instead? Okay, you might not enjoy the dance, but look at it this way: the more floor exposure he gets, the better he becomes –- and, hey presto, there’s another ‘good’ man on the floor! So how about making a point to pick up a beginner every session?

Thoughts, anyone?

Dance gorilla, dance!

SCENE, favourite dance studio in Winton. Present, facing full-length mirror, Pale English Woman (aka Heidi Cruwys) and Dark Indian Man. Present in background, Pale English Man (aka Simon Cruwys) and amused onlookers (two). On, Cha Cha music.

PEW: "...and on 2, we strike a line… strike a line. Arms out, no, arms out. Sharp. Now bring it down as you ronde. To your side… lower it like this."

Pause.

PEW: "No! Not that way! Drop your chest and bring your arms all the way down! What do you think you are? A gorilla?"

DIM thinks it over. No, he shakes his head, not a gorilla.

Another day. Same scene, more or less. On, Rumba music.

PEW: "…bring your right arm slowly down… as if you are going to caress my face… Look at me. Look at me! This is the dance of love. No! Straight fingers. No claws. No claws! You are not a bird, are you?"

DIM thinks it over. Not a bird either, he shakes his head, just a bloke.

Yet another day. Same scene. Pale English Man is with an elderly couple.

PEM: "That was marvellous, simply marvellous. It was a good variation of what I said, a very good one indeed… though it wasn’t quite what I wanted."

Elderly Gent: "Does it matter? I got there in the end, didn’t I?"

Is entertaining, is ballroom.

Tip from Tracie

HEARD at Salsa Caliente, Southampton. Speaker, Tender Loving Tracie.

"And girls, here’s something for you to watch out when you do that… Do not clamp your fingers around the man’s hand. Offer him your hand, but don’t clamp on. Never clamp on a man. That’s a top tip in life as well!"

True, y'think?

Push, pull, yank

HE pushed her. She fell back.

He pulled her. She let herself be pulled.

He twisted her arm behind her back. She bit her lips.

He yanked her to him and tripped her. She hung to his shoulder.

He caught her by the neck and flung her across. She smiled at him.

They call it salsa.

I love it.