It’s tough when an indoor class competes with outdoor shenanigans. There are a lot of windows along the front of this room. The room itself is actually just a defunct business, renting itself out 3 times a week for us wanna-be dancers. It had been one of those days when nothing really wrong happens, but things just don’t shake out right all day. So my focus wasn’t as sharp as I like it to be.
Then came the inky sky. We had seen it on our drive to class, bearing down on poor rain-drenched Fresno, that spectacular sight that terrifies you with its beauty. Even Salsa music has a hard time competing with this enormous a thunderstorm. Thunder and pitch-black clouds that cover the sky puts you in the mind of the Boston Symphony with kettledrums, not the pinging steel drums of calypso.
Then came the tiny slice of brilliant sunset. And then the filmy light pink streak of lacy clouds that stayed just long enough that you wonder if they were really there, and so beautiful.
Then I saw a man looking at me as I looked at all the wonder outside the class. Twenty women trying to dance and failing can be an interesting sight, so I don’t blame the man for staring. Still, as darkness came to the wet parking lot outside our safe little Cumbia haven, one of the class members commented on the creepy man watching us. Turns out he was someone’s husband, waiting for her to get done being foolish. Ickkk.
It was all a very good thing that there was so much distraction. I sweated, I enjoyed the music, I waved my arms and lifted my feet, but I did not dance.