Prime Perceptions
For the next 2 weeks I'll be attending an Argentine Tango Boot Camp here in Honolulu. It's one of those things that has been on my bucket list that I didn't get to in New York. What better way to immerse yourself in something than a good old fashioned boot camp. My roommate Chris, while in one of his infinite teasing moods told me to ask the instructor, "Ohhh.. I thought it was a booty camp, when will I get an Argentinian booty?" Oh Chris, you so funny.
There is a local school here called "Isla Tango" that has milongas (the word itself refers to the music that predates the tango that inspired the dance) which in effect are dance parties. Dance party!? Sweeeet - Sign me up! ;) In class, our teacher George is one local uncle with the savoir faire of a man raised on the proprieties of dance. I'm sure that in some tucked away part of my brain I knew that this life experience would be more similar to "Shall We Dance," where I'd play the awkwardly charming part of Richard Gere but secretly hoped for something like "Scent of a Woman" where tall dark and handsome would sweep me off my feet (blind, not blind, it's all sensual anyway).
Registration was promptly at 7:30pm. Since I'm a fan of mass transit, choke it up to years of the E, V and 6 getting into Manhattan from Astoria, I left the house early in a feign attempt at punctuality. It was 7:16pm and it was just little old me... and George. All this time spent in Hawai'i nei and I still have yet to grasp the concept of "Hawaii Time." Where else in the world can you go and be in your own time zone, not experience DST and constantly be behind by 5 or 6 hours. Lateness is a staple, gotta learn to slow my roll.
Like the good girl (heh heh) that I am and after a quick intro to Mr. Teacher, I take my info packet and clinging to it for dear life, take a seat. "What the hell am I doing here?" I scream into my cranium. I haven't taken a formal dance class in ballroom since college, however I love to dance, a. after a particularly stoke-inducing surf session, b. in the privacy of my bedroom or in the kitchen, living room and lanai when Chris is off doing one of his Japanese North Shore tours, or c. while listening to some tunes on a mid-day cruise around the island with friends in tow. In front of a bunch of strangers however, especially considering the close proximity that it entails, I am less than stoked.
Then, slowly, my classmates trickle into class. Late 50's, uncle-type - - Fairy. Chick, neurotic, wearing same color from head to toe, PURPLE. W-O-W. Old haole uncle, plump. Hmm... I'm beginning to sense a pattern. I panic at the disco. It's not like I was expecting a good, old fashioned New York meatpacking district clubbing night at Tenjune or Cielo; but I *was* expecting at least one person, preferably of the opposite gender, who knows what NKotB is, or at the very least, could sing and or rap the opening song to "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air."
*sigh* work it Will.
What could I expect? I've already stated that this is a "Bucket List" endeavor, and the people in class are a reflection of that, in the autumns and winters of life. {aside: it was pretty kick-ass seeing this one lady with salt-n-pepa hair put on her 3 inch heels.} After what feels like a lifetime in doggie years 2 then 3 than 4 mildly attractive dudes enter the dancespace joined by some couples who look like they're practicing for an upcoming wedding or who just want to make a "vertical expression of a horizontal desire" blah blah blah. George invites us onto the dance floor.
At this point I should mention the little social experiment that I tried. Around me, save for Purple Patty, the studio is dressed in black or shades thereof, with sensible shoes. Me? Multi-colored surf shorts, cerulean top and, wait for it, flip-flops. =o) Ahhh... delightful. To this date I have attempted to get away with wearing flips in a myriad of should-be-sensible situations: a hot new dance club, a job interview (joke lang), or climbing some mountain; with varied results. Ladies and gentlemen, the stink eye was akin to a kook's first session at Queens. Meow-zers. Needless to say, I will be wearing heels and some form of feminine-type apparel to my sophmore trial. Don't need grandpa stepping on my piggies or losing my flip-flops in Mr. Engineer/Physicist's embrace. That is if he ever stops analyzing the science behind the dance enough to properly embrace me. ;)
Tonight will be my first milonga. Although I am still somewhat nervous I will try to live by the saying, “leap and the net will appear!” Check in soon kiddies, hopefully I'll be able to sneak some pics tonight since our teacher is a Picture Nazi in class. Over and Out.
bonvivantwahine.
maluhia☮ hoku☆ aloha♥
follow your peace, your dreams & your heart.
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