1, 2, 3, (hold), 1, 2, 3, (hold)...

Salsa class rocked (or salsa'ed)! We learned two steps last night, and I think I've got them down. I practiced when I got home, and even a little this morning. I'm going to practice each day until next week's class, so it'll just be muscle memory by the time we're ready to learn the next step.

I had a little trouble with the second step we learned. I kept wanting to do what my friend Julia quickly identified as an aerobic step - she had the same problem, so we worked together to try and do it right. With a bunch of practice, hopefully I can break the tendency to do it the Denise Austin way instead of the salsa way! If I yell, "Feel the burn!" in class, hopefully Julia will snap me out of it.

The other people in the class are very nice. It's a big class - about 30 people. Most of the people came coupled, but seven or so of us are in there solo. Naturally, there are more women than men, so about 5 of us chicks are without a partner on any given round of dancing. The group switches partners a lot, so you're not solo all the time (thangod), and if you came there with your husband thinking you'd be dancing with him the whole time, you're wrong. Sometimes he's dancing with me and my hotness. Deal with that, married lady! Truly, nobody seemed to mind all the constant partner shifting. The instructor rightfully explained that it makes you a better dancer to dance with so many different people because everyone moves just a little differently, and jumping around helps you learn how to adjust to different people's steps.

One guy doesn't really need a partner. He loves himself enough for all of us. When we first started class, we split into two lines, facing each other, just to practice some rhythms and learn a little about the class and what we'd be doing and such. We're in a dance studio, so there are mirrors at one end of the room. The way our lines were situated, the mirrors were to the side, not behind or in front of us. I noticed the guy in question, let's call him Rico Suave, or just Rico for short, kept glancing into the mirror, which was to his left. No, glancing is not the right word. His glance lingered. He was gazing.

At first, I thought maybe he was self-conscious, and he was checking his hair, or his posture or making sure his underwear wasn't showing or something. Fair enough. Who wants toilet paper hanging out of their shorts in the sexy, Latin dance class? But after about the seventh lingering glance, I began to wonder. Maybe he's looking at one of us women in the mirror. Maybe he doesn't want to look at us directly, so he thinks we won't notice his rapt attention on the mirror. But soon I was diabused of this notion. Our lines were reorganized so that the women were in a line on one side, and the men were in a line on the other side facing us. Rico had to go to the other side of the room, whereupon he continued to lovingly look into the mirror on that side, clearly at himself.

It gets better. He began to do dance steps. On his own. Alone. The rest of us were clapping rhythms, listening to the instructor, learning what beats we should listen for, and Rico was shakin' his groove thang. I guess the class was moving too slow for Rico. He's got the music in him, ya know. He can't be expected to just stand there when he could be steppin' it out. And so he did.

I suppose it was important to Rico that we all know he was way ahead of us. He already pretty much knows how to do this...which is why he paid for the class...because he already knows how to do it. Oh, but he did have a question about leading your partner at one point. So, maybe that's why he paid for the class. He's confused about leading. I'll tell you what I'm not confused about: Rico is a tool.

Maybe I'll find out over the next 4 classes that Rico is really a sweet guy - he was just eager...and somewhat fascinated with his reflection. But probably I'll just find out that Rico is, in fact, a tool. Perhaps I should call him HammerTime instead of Rico.